She Wouldn't Dare
by Drowned Hopes
Summary: AU. Ever since Eragon realized he was gay, his life has gone downhill. Then Arya jumped in, Murtagh showed up, Thorn helped out, Roran got angry... and things took a turn for the worse. SLASH, EraMur.
1. The Crossdresser and the Cousin

**The standard warnings apply – cross-dressing, blackmail, handcuffs, slash, and odd humor. Mentions of sex, a few dozen make-out scenes, and possibly a very mild lime. Incest is debatable, since our boys aren't brothers in this fic. Some swearing, I guess, but if you're reading this and don't care about the other stuff, why should that matter? Oh, and this is AU.  
**

**The main pairing is, of course, Eragon x Murtagh, along with Arya x Nasuada, Katrina x Roran, and Thorn x Saphira, all of which will somehow be involved in the plot. If I can find it. I seem to have misplaced it... or maybe it wandered off. Heh.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it and I'm not making money off this.**

**(By the way: this has been edited from the version I first posted, though not enough to confuse anyone who doesn't re-read.)**

**-- **

Eragon was not happy.

No, he was not happy at all.

Life in general seemed to be rather upset with him, and there was no doubt in his mind that it was complete Saphira's fault. She, like most female friends will do, was interfering. Eragon had of course already pointed this out to her, but she had just was swiftly pointed out that interfering was what friends were for. She had explained, calmly and patiently, that friends should always push their friends forward. She was helping him, she said. He was being difficult, she said. He needed to get a boyfriend, she said.

They had been best friends since they were in diapers – literally. Eragon's mother, Selena, worked at a daycare, and would bring Eragon to work with her. There he met the deceptively innocent-looking Saphira Safyre, who had promptly stolen his cookie on the pretense checking it for cooties. They'd been best friends since.

When Eragon had eaten superglue (he thought it would taste the same as paste), Saphira had been the one translating his attempts at speech. When Saphira had made a "C" on a spelling test, convinced herself she was becoming illiterate, and then had an emotional breakdown in the middle of sixth-grade English class, Eragon had been the one comforting her and trying not to snicker. When Garrow, Eragon's uncle and stand-in father, had died, Saphira had been the one comforting him. When Glaedr, Saphira's first boyfriend, had dumped her, Eragon had been the one listing off all the reasons she was better off without him.

And now that Eragon had come out of the closet, Saphira was the one he'd come out to.

And that had been a mistake.

Saphira now spent most of her time tormenting him. She was constantly teasing him, even going so far as to coerce him into going places she knew had plenty of pale young men. (Eragon had a thing for fair skin.) At random times she'd take him to somewhere like the park. Then when they got there, he'd find out that it was Drop-Dead-Sexy Goth Day and all the handsome, vampirish men were celebrating by doing stripteases in the park.

Yes, it was all Saphira's fault.

After all, he wouldn't have been having these thoughts without her provoking them. It had nothing to do with hormones.

--

Eragon groaned, wondering just how he'd gotten in this situation. But his thoughts were wiped blank by the feels of another's lips claiming his own – how something could feel so warm and so gentle and so demanding all at the same time, Eragon did not know.

"Stupid Saphira," Eragon muttered against those lips.

A soft laugh crept its way to his ears as his other pulled away, looking at him through the darkness. "Who?"

"Nothing," Eragon managed to say. He was a bit busy examining his completely nude companion. Where were the guy's clothes? Not that Eragon minded the fact they apparently decided to make their escape. In fact, he sort of preferred his companion naked. There was so much more skin visible without cloth in the way.

Vaguely, Eragon realized that he should probably be naked, too. It would be proper, no? Surely it was embarrassing to be naked with someone who wasn't. Purely to ease any discomfort his companion might be experiencing, he began to reach down to take off his shirt. When his fingers slid over bare skin instead, Eragon blinked, feeling mildly surprised. He looked down.

Whoa, he was naked too. When had that happened?

His companion chuckled and walked slowly over to the bed. His pale hips swung gently as he moved, pallid skin shining in the darkness as moonlight struck it. With cat-like grace the fair-skinned male sank onto the sheets, curling up like he had nothing better to do in the world. A little pink tongue darted out of the man's mouth, licking his lips as he surveyed Eragon.

Eragon shivered a bit, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the cold.

And then he woke up.

He groaned, stretching and rubbing at his eyes, and then glared at his shrieking alarm clock. "Bitch," he muttered. Oddly enough, it didn't respond. Reaching over, he hit the "off" button and stumbled out of bed and glanced at the alarm clock again.

6:00 A.M., the neon red numbers read. Time to go to his first college class – a Chemistry course. After that, another class. After that, lunch with Saphira, who would no doubt take the opportunity to torture him.

And after that, sweet, uninterrupted free time.

Eragon smiled at the thought. _One step at a time, _he told himself. _One step at a time._

Ten minutes later, he was stumbling out of the shower. As soon as he was dry, he hurried to get dressed and ready for the day. Soon he was fully clothed in loose jeans and an old t-shirt. He grabbed a muffin for the tiny kitchen, stuffed it in his mouth, grabbed a soda from the miniature fridge, and hurried out the door.

As he walked, his head was filled with the same thoughts it was every day - how to avoid Arya and Saphira for as long as possible, just how straight that guy he just passed was, how long he could keep up being single. He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he didn't hear the voice the first time it called out to him.

"Hey, Eragon!"

He went on, lost in his own little world. The person, however, was more persistant than that.

"Hey, Eragon! I've been looking for you!" she called, trotting towards him. This time, Eragon heard her.

Eragon's face lost several shades of color. _Maybe I can make a run for it.  
_

_She's on track team, you idiot,_ snapped a little voice in his head. _You think you can outrun her? Try. I dare you. _

"Uh, Arya," he called, turning around to face his friend. "What are you doing here?"

"I go to college here, same as you," Arya said dryly. "Remember? Look, I need your help with a project of mine."

"I, uh, have class right now," Eragon said. "Sorry."

She pouted. "Please? I'll help you fight off Saph when she tries to get you a boyfriend. You can miss class just once, right? For me?"

Eragon hesitated._ No! Bad idea!_ said the sensible part of his brain.

"Sure, what is it?" said Eragon mouth. Mentally, he groaned and resisted the urge to beat his head into the nearest wall. Why had he just said that?

"I'll show you," she said, trotting up to him and tugging on his arm. "Come on, we've only got two hours, and it will take every minute."

_Fuck. _

She grinned wickedly and led him away.

Moments later, they were at a small room off to the side of a classroom. Eragon shifted uncomfortably – they where in the arts sections of the college campus, a place he dared tread upon only for his art class. But now they were in the clothes-oriented section of the arts area, a place he **never** dared tread. Here drama students ran rampant, checking and re-checking the personality of their costumes. Here fashion students kidnapped innocent passersbys and forced them to serve as models – if they were lucky. They unlucky ones were used as sewing mannequins.

Arya patted him comfortingly and pushed him into the room.

The first thing Eragon noticed was the mirror. It more or less dominated the small space, and rested comfortably on a small makeup table covered in – your guessed it – makeup. A hairbrush, a comb, seven different bottles of eerie liquid, a battery-powered Venus razor and a can of floral-scented shaving cream were scattered at various intervals; against the wall of the room was a clothing rack.

Before he could examine the clothing more closely, he was led to the single chair in the room and pushed down. "Arya," he sighed, "you're going to use me as a model, aren't you?"

Arya smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Yeah." She began to bustle about the room, flipping through the clothing on the rack. "Hmm. I know what look I want to give you, but I'm not really sure how to do it… We're going to have to cover quite a bit of you up. Well, your legs, at least. I suppose we can fix the problem with your arms, we have enough time. One or the other, I suppose... we won't have enough time to fix both..."

_The problem with my arms?_ Eragon frowned. "Arya, what do you mean – "

Arya tossed him some clothes. "Try these on."

Eragon caught them, sighing, then glanced down at the small bundle. For a moment he stared, disbelieving, at the article of clothing on top. "Arya," he said slowly. "Why did you give me a bra?"

She smiled.

"Hell no!" Eragon yelped, jumping upright. "There is no way you are getting me out there, in front of dozens of people I've never met, in female clothing! That's sick and wrong!"

Arya sighed. "Oh, calm down. Like you said, no one out there knows you. They're not even going to know you're a guy."

"I have leg and arm hair. My hair is short. I walk like a guy. How exactly are we going to convince people I'm female?"

"I've been thinking about that, actually," Arya said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "A padded bra, shaved legs or arms, some earrings, some makeup... I think we can pull it off."

Eragon had taken several steps back. He gaped at Arya, horrified, as she spoke. Finally, he managed to close his mouth and wet his dry tongue. "Arya," he squeaked. "Back up. Back _way_ up. First of all, we have have another friend, remember? A female friend - Saphira. Use _her_."

"She has class right now."

"So do I!"

Arya snorted. "Oh, please. It's an English course."

Eragon took another step back. "But guys don't make cute girls."

Arya took a step forward, blocking the only exit. "You don't have to be cute, you just have to wear it."

"People will recognize me!"

Arya rolled her eyes. "You'll be in drag. No one will ever know it's you."

"It's not masculine."

"Eragon, in high school Saphira and I put makeup on you while you were asleep, then blackmailed you into wearing a Cinderella dress when you woke up," Arya said. "You don't have any masculinity left to protect."

Eragon crossed his arms over his chest. "I won't do it."

Arya smirked. "I was hoping you'd say that."

She walked over to the makeup table, sliding open a drawer. After a bit of ruffling around in it, her smirk became triumphant; she straightened and turned, several… oddly sized pieces of paper? held in her hand.

Eragon frowned as she waggled them in his face. No, they weren't pieces of paper. They were photos.

Shit.

He snatched the pictures out of her hands, stuttering and unable to form even the simplest of sentences. "What?" he finally managed to gasp. "How - !" For in each of the photos he was almost completely naked, wearing only boxers and… and….

a _bra_. A stuffed bra, on a very drunk-looking Eragon, who appeared to be doing a strip tease.

"How did you get these?" Eragon cried. "I only did that once!"

"Once is enough. And let me remind you I have friends on the college newspaper?" Eragon glared at her. "Come on, let's get you dressed." Arya's smile grew and she sat him down in the chair again, reaching for the makeup.

--

Eragon stood before the oval mirror, eyeing himself appraisingly.

"Wow," he said, impressed.

Arya shook her head. "Girls say 'sexy.' And trust me, you're not. You're... cute, I guess."

His slightly wavy hair had been straightened and carefully combed; it was now a boyish girl cut, instead of a boyish boy cut. His ears were pierced, and the dress he wore covered up enough that his real gender wouldn't be detected. The makeup she'd put on him definitely helped, too. Eragon had to admit: Arya was a genius.

"Not bad," Arya commented. "I might even get a 'B.'"

Eragon's face flushed. "Girls don't dress like this!" he protested, turning to face her.

"No, but then again, you aren't a girl, and this isn't real life. It's a college fashion show for a college class that, thankfully, bases the student's grade on the originality and design of the clothing, not the model." She turned and walked toward the door, then paused and motioned for him to follow. "Well, hurry up. We've only got a few minutes left."

--

About an hour later, Eragon scowled and struggled to stay perfectly still. It was after the actual fashion show, where he'd had to walk down the runway and do some poses like Arya showed him, and now it was time for an inspection by the professor. A _very _close inspection.

The prestigious pervert knelt down and carefully "inspected" the overlap of the torso area and the shirt area of the dress – in other words, he ran his fingers over the smooth, flat surface of Eragon's stomach. The brunet bit his lip forcefully and mentally listed off all the swear words he knew to keep from glaring and kicking the old lecher right were it hurts.

Arya batted her long, black eyelashes. "I wasn't sure how to do the shirt," she said. "What do you think? I mean, a longer one is classy, but a short one would provide contrast and show off more of the model's legs."

Eragon rolled his eyes. So this was how Arya made such an excellent grade in this course. She sweet-talked the slimy sleazebag.

"Er, yes," said the perv in question, the image of Arya in such a skirt practically reflected in his watery eyes. "The point of this class is indeed to find ways that flaunt the best characteristics of the model – showing off the legs would definitely be a good idea. Consider it a bit more. Oh, and you are allowed to act as your own model. I know you had trouble and was forced to use a last resort."

Eragon simmered. "I'm right _here_," he hissed under his breath. Sure, he wasn't the most beautiful girl, but that didn't mean Professor Porno here had to insult him!

Arya smiled sweetly. "Really? I didn't know that. That's so helpful – I don't want to bother Era again, she's so busy. Right, Era?"

"Yeah," muttered 'Era', glaring at Arya. Silently he counted to ten and began to serenely imagine just how many ways he could decapitate, maim, or – better yet – embarrass his "friend." Preferably in front of a large audience.

"So I'll be getting an 'A'?" Arya pressed.

Lord Lecher – whom Eragon was determined to make up clever nicknames for until he found out his real name – hesitated. "Well, I do feel you could have possibly done better… I wouldn't want to give you the impression you don't had room to improve." His little tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips, obviously thinking of just how Arya could improve her model.

"Next time I'll try that short skirt idea," Arya assured him. "It's just if I don't make an 'A', well… I'm doing so well in my other classes, and I'm not sure if I want to continue to take this one…"

"An 'A', of course!" the refined rake was quick to answer. Arya beamed, and Eragon scowled and tugged her arm sharply. When she turned on him with a curious look, he glared and motioned firmly towards the door.

"Fine," she said. She smiled enthusiastically at – at – damn. Eragon couldn't think of another name for him. "Bye, Professor Galbatorix!" Arya called. Eragon snorted. Galbatorix? What a stupid name. Then again, his uncle's name was "Garrow" and his best friend was "Saphira". He didn't really have room to talk.

He was led to the door, then to the dressing room. Just when he was about to open the door and enter his realm of safety, a voice called out. "Hey, Arya!"

Eragon groaned and firmly resisted the idea of pounding his skull into the nearest vertical surface – i.e., the wall.

Arya whirled around, laughing. "Thorn! What are you doing here?"

A _huge_ redhead laughed back and trotted up to her with open arms. Much to Eragon's surprise, he was not immediately maimed and/or killed like most of the men who attempted to hug the apparently defenseless woman. Instead, he was hugged back. The redhead pulled away, grinning a big grin – big, like everything else about him. It was obvious he spent quite some time working out.

When the "Thorn" person and Arya finally broke apart, Eragon couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. Because now the green-eyed monster was staring at him curiously. "This is Thorn," Arya explained to the puzzled cross-dresser. "He's a friend of mine from high school. Thorn, this is – "

"Eragon," Eragon said firmly, not wanting her to introduce him as "Era".

Silence. Then Thorn blinked curiously at him. "Isn't that a guy's name?"

"So what are you doing here?" Arya cut in before Eragon could snap at the poor unsuspecting Thorn. It wasn't Thorn's fault Eragon was feeling touchy after being forced into a dress.

"I transferred here. I just finished my basics and wanted to go somewhere more arts and science oriented." He shrugged sheepishly. "I completely forgot you went here…"

Arya smacked him on the arm, adopting a mock-hurt expression. "Well!"

"_Arya_," Eragon growled. When the sadist turned his way questioningly, he gestured to the dressing room door firmly.

Arya rolled her eyes and gestured for him to go ahead. Fuming, Eragon stomped forward, tugged her away from Thorn, and hissed in her ear, "I don't think I can get the dress of by myself."

She snickered. "Keep it on. You look cute in it." Eragon glared at her.

"Thorn, we're going to be late for – Arya?"

Arya turned around. Eragon didn't bother, and instead crossed his arms and scowled.

"You had to bring him along, too?" Arya asked behind him.

"Of course," Eragon heard Thorn reply.

"Where would my redhead be with me?" asked a voice. "I'm the only one keeping his ass out of trouble."

Feeling curious, Eragon turned around. The newcomer was standing besides Thorn, and, like Thorn had, was embracing Arya like a sister.

They broke apart, smiling. Arya punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Where have you been, cousin of mine? I haven't seen you since you ran away."

The newcomer shrugged. "Around and about."

"How's Uncle Morzan?"

"Dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

The newcomer raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Good point," Arya said thoughtfully. Then she seemed to remember Eragon, since she glanced his way, green eyes suddenly gaining a wicked glint. "Murtagh, this is Eragon. Eragon, this is Murtagh."

Murtagh stared at him.

Eragon stared back.

They both blinked and then they stared some more.

"I am going to be see much of either of you?" Eragon asked after a moment.

Murtagh and Thorn glanced at each other. The redhead shrugged. "Probably," Murtagh said.

"Then," Eragon said, "I probably need to clarify something."

"What?"

Eragon tugged down the sleeves of the dress with a bit a difficulty. Then he slid the dress down to his waist and firmly pointed to his now-naked - and very obviously male - chest. "I'm a guy."


	2. Murtagh's Problem

Murtagh was not in love.

Yes, he had decided that quite firmly. For you see, there were certain rules in the universe - for example, no matter how many feathers you glue to yourself, you still can't fly; if you dye your hair pink, your mom will find out; if you light off fireworks in your basement, you will be caught. And, the most unchangeable of the these unspoken rules: Murtagh Morzansson did not fall in love. That was just how things worked.

Oh, yes, he dated. Men and women, goths and nerds, teachers and students; they all fell to his bad-boy charm. He explained he was just looking for a nice screw, hung out a bit with some of the less annoying ones, then smiled politely and waved good bye. The end.

The only exception to this rule was Nasuada Queen, his last ex-girlfriend, but Murtagh didn't like to talk about that.

The point was, Murtagh was a bit confused; he just didn't know what to do. Meeting Eragon had felt like getting hit with a ton of bricks, if you'll pardon the cliché. Eragon was adorable - the way he scowled at Arya for embarrassing him, the way he laughed when Murtagh told a joke, the way he glanced at Thorn out of the corner of his eye like he was afraid the redhead was going to eat him... simply adorable.

And that's why Murtagh was sitting on his bed, glaring at his cell phone, and mourning the fact that Eragon - wonderful Eragon, who he was NOT in love with - had gotten away without handing over his phone number. Katrina paced the room, picking up various objects from the ankle-deep junk on the floor and putting them in their proper place, while ranting about how incredibly messy Murtagh was. Murtagh had decided twenty minutes ago to tune her out, but that hadn't stopped her.

"So when will Thorn be back?" Katrina paused briefly from her rant to ask.

"When he gets back," Murtagh muttered. He didn't even glance at her.

"What?"

"He'll_ be _back," Murtagh said, "when he _gets_ back."

Katrina rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, yes, that's very helpful. Do you happen to know _when _he will get back?"

"Eventually," Murtagh replied vaguely. "How should I know?"

"Because he's your roommate?"

"So?"

Katrina stopped her cleaning, frowning at him and eying him suspiciously. "What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"Nothing." Murtagh sighed, still staring at his cell phone like the Grim Reaper was going to call him any second.

Katrina scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright, who is it?"

Murtagh frowned at her. "Who is what?"

"The person you're trying not to call - or trying to call," Katrina said. "Which is it, anyway?"

Murtagh sighed. "I don't know. I want to, but..."

"But what?"

He didn't reply.

"Who is it?" she asked again.

Murtagh hesitated, then gave up. He knew from experience she'd question him all night if she had to. "Eragon," he said.

Katrina blinked. "Who?"

Murtagh sighed again. "You know how I told you about Arya? My cousin that Thorn and I always hung out with in high school? Thorn and I ran into her. Apparently she goes here. She showed Thorn and I around yesterday, and there was this friend of hers, Eragon, that was with her. Eragon is..."

He trailed off. Katrina cocked an eyebrow. "Is what?"

But Murtagh didn't answer, just stared blankly at his cell phone again.

"Okay," Katrina said, beginning to bustle around the room again, putting things back in order, "so what are you going to do about it?"

"Huh?"

"What are you going to do about it? Mope? I haven't found a half-decent guy since high school. I'd throw myself at him if I was in your situation."

Murtagh's mouth twitched upwards. "Other people are usually the ones throwing themselves at me, Kat."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. "Ever the narcissistic bastard, Tag. But more to the point - " she began to bustle about the room again " - I haven't found a good boyfriend in two years, so hell if I'm going to let _you_ pass one up, especially not if you love him already."

"I am _not _in love!"

"Not the point, Tag. Just don't let this guy get away." Katrina patted him on the shoulder. Then she frowned again. "Wait, he's not straight, is he?"

"I have no idea," Murtagh groaned. "God, this is ridiculous." Then he punched in a number on the cell phone. Katrina watched as he put it to his ear. "Arya?" he asked after a long moment. "Yeah, it's me. I need your model's phone number." He paused. "What do you mean, why? So I can call him, obviously." He paused again. "No, I can remember it. Just tell me... Thanks." He snapped the phone shut.

Katrina patted him sympathetically. "Good luck, Tag."

He smirked. "Like I need it."

"Bastard."

"Bitch," he replied fondly. He turned and went out the door, before calling back after her, "Hey, you're going to get out of my dorm room once I leave, right? No wild parties?"

Katrina grinned. "I promise nothing."

Murtagh grinned back and vanished out the door. As soon as he was outside, he took a deep breath, hesitated, then pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number.

--

Several hours later, around eight P.M., he staggered in through the doorway and collapsed in a chair in the tiny living room area. "Thorn," he called out weakly, "you home?"

"Yeah." The huge redhead appeared, toothbrush in hand and already in his pajamas. He eyed his roommate suspiciously. "Geez, you look like you've been hit with a train. What happened?."

Murtagh shook his head sadly. "I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.

"Okay." Thorn shrugged and turned around, heading back to the bathroom.

He'd almost reached it when Murtagh yelled, "Fine, I want to talk about it!"

Thorn motioned for him to wait a second, then disappeared into their shared bathroom. The sound of spitting, a facet being turned on, and then off, was heard. Thorn appeared again, this time without the toothbrush. "Well?"

Murtagh sighed. "I talked to him, then he agreed to hang out for a while. I met him at a burger place, we chatted for a bit, everything was going great. He really seemed to be happy I'd wanted to meet him again. We went back to Arya's dorm and hung out with this blond girl who rooms with her – Saphira, or something. And then Eragon's cousin showed up." Murtagh's face, which had been getting brighter, fell.

"His cousin?" Thorn frowned. "So?"

"His cousin, Roran," Murtagh explained. "Apparently they live together in the suburbs. Roran decided I was hitting on Eragon, and didn't like it. The bastard."

Thorn raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I _was_ hitting on Eragon, but that's not the point," Murtagh admitted. "Roran eventually told me to fuck off, threw me out of the dorm room, and threatened to kick my ass if I ever touched his precious baby brother again."

Thorn grinned. "Interesting guy. Should I talk to him for you?"

Murtagh groaned and slumped forward, burying his head in his hands. "No, that's the problem! What if Eragon agrees with him? If you tell Roran to back off, Eragon might get mad and tell me to get lost!"

Thorn was silent for a moment. Then, after considering this, he said, "Well, you're not afraid of him are you?"

"Roran? No." Murtagh rolled his eyes. "He's not tough.

"It wasn't Roran I was talking about," Thorn said dryly. "And besides, you're over complicating this. Just be blunt. Tell him you like him."

Murtagh rolled his eyes and laughed it off.

--

"Don't you think you overreacted?"

They – "they" being Roran, Saphira, and Eragon – were sitting in Arya's and Saphira's dorm room. Roran stood, scowling, arms crossed over his chest. Eragon laid on the couch, glaring alternately at the ceiling and Roran. Saphira sat by his feet, looking irritated. It was she who had spoken.

"No." Roran's voice left no room for argument. "That Morzansson guy was obviously bad news."

Saphira sighed. "Look, he might not have been the most likable guy, but you could have at least given him a chance."

"Chance to what? Seduce my cousin?" Roran retorted sarcastically. "Every time that bastard looked in Eragon's direction, he was imagining stripping him! It was obvious! And when he 'tripped' and managed to pull Eragon down with him just so he could have an excuse to 'accidentally' grope him? That was the last damn straw."

Eragon glared at him.

"What?" Roran demanded.

Eragon continued to glare.

"Come on," Roran said disgustedly, motioning for Eragon to stand up. "We should be getting home. We can talk about the pedophile later."

"I'm not a kid, so he's not a pedophile," Eragon said darkly, getting up. "He was just being nice to me."

As soon as he spoke these words, the door swung open, and in marched Arya. She stopped, frowning, "Who's a pedophile?" she asked, staring at the three people in her room. "And what are you two doing here?" she continued, gesturing to Eragon and Roran.

"Leaving. Come on, Eragon." Roran walked towards the door. Eragon followed.

Arya sat down in the chair after they left. "Geez, Roran's in a bad mood. What happened?"

"Eragon brought some guy over. Murtagh, or something." Saphira waved her hand dismissively.

Arya's emerald eyes lit up. "Murtagh? Eragon invited him here?"

"Sort of. He invited Eragon to hang out for a bit, and they ended up coming here. You know him or something?" Saphira leaned back, frowning a bit.

"He's my cousin." Arya frowned thoughtfully. "I was wondering why Murtagh asked for Eragon's number… He must be interested." She smiled wickedly. "In which case I would have to help out."

Saphira stared at her.

Arya blinked. "What?"

Saphira shook her head. "What happened to the icy bitch you used to be?"

Arya grinned. "Froze to death."

"Of course," said Saphira. "And what do you mean, 'help out'?"

Arya winked at her. "Help me and you'll find out."

Saphira stared at her for a long moment. Then she sighed. "Fine. What do we need to do?"

--

Long after Thorn had wandered off, Murtagh continued to stare at the ceiling. Any one of his friends would tell him he was moping if they saw him like this, but he really didn't care - his love life was in danger, damn it!

He nearly fell off the couch, however, when someone knocked on the door. For a moment, he considered not answering, but the knock become more insistent. "Wait a minute, will you?" he muttered, getting up off the couch and going to open the door.

And there stood Arya. Murtagh stared at her in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

She hurled herself onto him. "Taggy! We haven't done anything in ages, come to a club with me?"

Murtagh gaped at her. _What the hell?_ he thought. _Well, it _is _Arya._

"So, will you come or not?"

Murtagh shrugged, staring miserable at the ceiling of his dorm. "I don't know, Arya..."

Arya smiled innocently. "Why not? Tag, I haven't seen you in ages - we need to do something together, and this is perfect."

Murtagh sighed, not even bothering to look at her. He laid limply on the couch, as if sucked dry of energy. "But clubbing? I don't think I'm up to it night now. Maybe tomorrow."

"But I want to introduce you to Saphira!" Arya protested. "Come on, Tag, please!"

"No, Arya." Murtagh closed his eyes.

_How am I supposed to get them together if he refuses to go? _Arya thought irritably. Then her face brightened as an idea came to her. "Eragon will be there," she said slyly.

Murtagh's eyes snapped back open. "Really?" he exclaimed.

Arya smirked.

"Uh, I mean, really?" Murtagh said in a much calmer tone of voice.

"Look, I know you're in love with Eragon."

"You do? Wait, I am not!"

"Calm down, oh cousin of mine. Taggy," she said, coming closer, "if you come with me, I can guarantee that Eragon will be nearby, Roran will not, and that I will do my very best to make sure that by the end of the night, you..." She came even closer, her eyes fixed on Murtagh's. "and Eragon... will be together."

Murtagh practically leapt off the couch. "I'll do whatever you want."

Arya's grin broadened. "Good." She strode to his room; Murtagh followed. She went to his closet, taking only a moment's consideration before tossing various pieces of clothing at Murtagh. "Here. Put these on."

Murtagh didn't argue; instead he stripped down to his boxers, ignoring the fact that a beautiful young woman was standing beside him as he did this. He did, however, frown when he saw Arya's selections. "All black?"

"Yeah. Eragon loves pale men, and the contrast will make you look whiter."

Murtagh nodded, then pulled then shirt on. He shook his head disgustedly at the pants - he hadn't worn those in ages - but did it anyway. One thing he had learned about Arya was that her plans generally worked, so he had best follow her orders if he wanted to catch a certain brunet.

She nodded in approval once he had put everything on. "Good. Now, for your hair..."

"You are not messing with my hair," Murtagh said firmly.

Arya crossed her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing. "You said you'd do whatever I said. Don't you want to get Eragon?"

"If you can't get us together without fiddling with my hair, its not worth it."

Arya sighed. "Fine. Let me do your makeup, then."

_"__Makeup?"_

"Excuse me, but aren't _I _then one studying fashion and clothes design?"

Murtagh glared at her. "...fine."

About a half hour later, Murtagh stood before the bathroom mirror, staring in disbelief at himself.

"Yes, that's you," Arya assured him. She dragged him out of the cramped bathroom. "Let's go, shall we? Saphira should have gotten Eragon to the right place now."

Murtagh checked his watch. 10:31. The clubs around town would be open by now. "Okay. Which club, specifically?"

"The Varden, I think it's called. Hurry up, will you? Your brunet awaits." She winked at him and pulled him out the door.


	3. Keep it Simple: Thorn Interferes

"Two words, Saphira: hell no."

Saphira gave a frustrated sigh. She glared down at Eragon, who lounged on the couch, scowling up at her.

They were at Eragon's house - or, more accurately, Roran's house, since legally it belonged to him. Clangs and clashes could be heard in the background as Roran washed pots and pans in the kitchen. Otherwise, the house was silent, for there was no one else there; Roran's mother had died years ago, and Garrow, Roran's father, had recently followed her.

Saphira glanced at the clock that hung on the wall above Eragon's head - 10:42 PM. Arya was counting on her to have Eragon in the right place at the right time, and the right time was in less than forty minutes.

"Eragon, don't be so difficult," she snapped. She'd been at this for the past half hour, to no avail. _Arya said it would be easy,_ she thought. _I suppose this little dilemma never occurred to her. Mastermind, my foot._

Eragon glared at her. "_I'm_ being difficult? You're the one trying to force me to go shopping with you!"

She sighed. "Just come. It will be good for you."

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. How is shopping good for me?"

"Clothes."

"I have clothes."

"Not the right kind."

"Let's see... there's underwear, shirts, and jeans. I think I'm all set, Saph."

Saphira shook her head firmly. "You need good clothes. Stare-at-my-ass clothes. Drool-worthy clothes. How do you expect to get a boyfriend if you don't spend time outside your house, or making yourself look good?"

"I don't need a boyfriend," Eragon snapped. "I need friends that know when to stop interfering in my love life!"

"You don't have a love life." Saphira crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. Then her face brightened as an idea came to her. "Roran," she called sweetly.

The banging in the kitchen paused, and then Eragon's cousin appeared around the corner, covered in soapy water and not in the best of moods. "Yeah?"

"I've been thinking Eragon needs a life. He's not going to meet guys when all he does is go to classes and stay home, so I thought I'd take him shopping ," Saphira explained, then put on her very best pout. "Only he won't come with me."

The pout was ineffective. Roran shrugged and leaned against the doorway. "And this is my problem... how?"

"I'll be blunt," she told him. "If Eragon is already taken, Murtagh will leave him alone."

Roran's eyes lit up.

"Saphira!" Eragon cried, outraged. "You traitor!"

"Eragon, you're going," Roran told him firmly. He disappeared back into the kitchen, and the noises resumed.

Eragon shot Saphira a murderous look. "Oh, calm down," Saphira said. "I'm sorry, alright?"

"I'm not talking to you," Eragon said coldly.

"Good for you. Come on, you can't go out in public dressed like _that_."

Twenty minutes later, they stood outside a strip mall. Saphira tugged his arm impatiently; reluctantly, he followed. "Why am I doing this again?" he asked.

"Oh, hush. You'll be thanking me soon enough." Saphira, ahead of him, glanced around at the various stores, and after a moment they focused on a large clothing store. That was the one. She proceeded to drag him towards it.

--

The club was alive around them. The music was pounding, the dancers were grinding, the lights were flashing, the alcohol was flowing, and the drunks were drinking. Murtagh glanced around them, looking mildly irritated - contrary to popular belief, clubs had never been his thing, and he seriously doubted they were Eragon's.

Arya and Murtagh made their way to the barstools. Murtagh collapsed on one, motioning the bartender over, but Arya shook her head. "I don't care how well you hold your alcohol, cousin, you need to be perfectly sober," she told him, waving the bartender away. Murtagh scowled, but didn't protest - Arya was helping him, after all, and a few less drinks would be a small price to pay for Eragon. "So what do we do? Eragon's coming here or something?" he demanded.

Arya shook her head. "No, he'll be nearby. As for the plan, it's not terribly complicated. We just get you and Eragon alone together, and you do what you've got to. Looking like you do right now, Eragon will be putty in your hands."

"No grand scheme? No devious plot?"

She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Taggy, just play along. The simpler, the better, y'know?" Murtagh scowled again, slapping her hand away.

"So we just sit here?" he demanded.

"For the moment," Arya said. Then she glanced around. "You know, since we're already here, why don't we have some fun?"

"Sure. It's only my love life at stake, why don't we just go have some fun? And while we're at it, let's just forget the silly plan and go pick up some girls. We could - "

Arya rolled her eyes. "Fine, you stay here and sulk while I go have fun." She got up from the barstool and melted into the crowd.

As soon as Murtagh was out of sight, she pulled out her cell phone. Murtagh was obviously getting nervous - she might need more help than just Saphira if Murtagh got out of hand. Arya slipped into one of the less noisy corners of the club. _Thorn_, she texted, _i need ur help. _

--

Murtagh sighed, slumping forward to stare at woodgrain in the table. He traced it absentmindedly, before glancing up; Arya was nowhere in sight. Good. Murtagh motioned for the bartender, who trotted over to him with congenial smile.

"What'll you have?" the man asked.

"Something weak," Murtagh said. He might want a drink, but like Arya said, he shouldn't get drunk.

The bartender nodded and moved off. He returned a moment later, glass in hand, and set it on the table.

Murtagh picked up the glass and immediately drank it down, not even bothering to ask what it was. The bartender raised his eyebrows, but said nothing else. "Another?" the man asked.

"Sure," Murtagh muttered. He laid his head on the table, closing his eyes.

Earlier, when they'd walked to the club, Arya had said Eragon was already attracted to him. But what if she was wrong? What if he made a complete fool of himself? What if Eragon ended up hating him, or thinking that he was some sort of creep? He couldn't risk losing what might be his only chance to be with the brunet.

Eragon was something precious. Murtagh had felt a strong physical attraction to him on sight, but oddly enough, the attraction didn't end there. After a half hour in Eragon's presence, Murtagh had begun to notice odd things about him, like how he would glance at him every few seconds and blush. Or how he laughed. Or how he got that distant look on his face when he though no one was looking. Within two hours of being around Eragon, Murtagh had fallen for him, and he was only now beginning to realize just how hard that fall had been.

Could Murtagh really risk his one shot at a relationship with the brunet when he had no idea how Eragon felt in return?

Murtagh frowned at the thought. Most definitely not. He'd have to tell Arya no so he could think this out some more, then come back and talk to Eragon later when he was more sure. Just as he looked up to see where the bartender had gotten to with his drink, he heard a shriek.

Murtagh started, toppling from his seat. He landed on his back, and was just in time to see a young lady pitch forward over him.

Time seemed to move in slow motion, as if he had been suddenly thrown into a bad action movie. Murtagh could see her wide, horrified eyes fix on him, her mouth open in a shriek, her arms thrown up as if to defend herself, her feet stumbling uselessly on the floor, her martini splashing through the air, her long hair blown back - he could feel every freezing drop of her drink splattered all over his shirt, just as he heard himself gasp -

Then she landed.

Right. On. Top. Of. Him.

They both lay there for a second, both still processing just what had happened. Then the woman squirmed in his lap, and Murtagh became aware of that the stares of about half the people in the club were now fixed on him. Quite a few just shrugged and went back to drinking, dancing, or talking; the others continued to stare curiously for a few momenets before they also resumed activity. The woman on his lap finally managed to scramble upright, her face bright red; Murtagh stared up at her. He was still on the floor, on his back, his shirt soaking wet and his mood not improved in the least.

"S-sorry!" the woman stammered, offering him a hand. He scowled and ignored it, pushing himself upright and glancing around for Arya. They were leaving **now.**

The woman stared at him for a moment more, still stammering apologies, before vanishing back into the crowd. He ignored this, and continued to scan the dancers; where **was** Arya? He sighed and moved toward the dance floor, intending to push through the writhing bodies until he located his cousin.

He scowled when someone tapped him on the shoulder, then glanced behind him. "Who are you looking for?" Arya asked, sipping some sort of fruity green drink.

"What happened to no drinking?" he said, gesturing to it.

Arya winked at him. "Silly cousin, I meant you, not me. By the way, it's time to go. Saphira - "

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"Just no!" He whirled around and pushed his way to the door. Arya followed.

As soon as they were outside in the relative quiet, Arya stopped. Murtagh did not, continued to go down the sidewalk towards his dorm room.

"Murtagh, what are you doing?" Arya demanded.

"I refuse to do this anymore!" he said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at her or stop. Arya hurried after him, and grabbed his arm when she caught up and effectively stopping him.

"Oh, don't be such a pansy, Tag," Arya said. "You're just going to give up?"

"I'm not giving up, I'm just…" He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm just not so sure this is a good idea. We'll fail, Eragon will hate me, I'll never have a chance with him again. This won't work, I'm not doing it now. I need to think about it more." He yanked his arm out of Arya's grasp and started to walk again.

Once again, she grabbed him. "Oh, come on!"

"No!"

"You're just getting cold feet."

Murtagh glared at her. "Oh, well, I'm so sorry I'm sane enough to realize how bad of an idea this is!"

Arya stared at him a moment more, then opened her mouth to protest. Suddenly something flickered in her eyes - an idea? Her expression transformed into one of resignation. "Fine," she said, letting go. "We don't have to do this."

Murtagh frowned her suspiciously. "Really?"

"Yeah. But first, can we go to one of the clothing stores at the strip mall across the street?" She waved a hand in front of her face, wrinkling her nose. "No offense, but your clothes smell like you washed them in a beer bottle."

Murtagh grimaced, remembering the clumsy woman who had spilled her drink on him. "Can't it wait? I'll be back at the dorm in just a few minutes, I can change there."

Arya's eyes widened, and she looked hurt. "Well… I wanted to spend the rest of the night having fun with you. I mean, stupid scheme aside, it has been forever since we've hung out. Of course, if you really want to go back to your dorm…" She sniffed, and her eyes suddenly seemed overly bright.

_Damn it,_ Murtagh thought disgustedly._ She's doing that pouty thing!_ He sighed, then gave in. "Fine. The strip mall it is."

Arya smiled at him, and they began to make their way across the street. As soon as Murtagh was in front of her, she pulled out her cell phone and began to text Saphira.

_murt has cold feet,_ she typed. _can't let him c era until it's 2 late 4 him 2 leave. K?_

A moment after she'd sent the text, her phone vibrated. Words appeared on the screen._ k. what do i do? _

_keep era occupied. if u want u can tel him wats going on. _

_no he'll freak if i do. u no how he is _

_k. i'll txt u if sumthing goes wrong_

Arya snapped the phone shut just as Murtagh turned around."Who were you texting?" he asked curiously.

She gave him a quick smile. "No one."

--

Eragon trotted after Saphira, still scowling. He glanced around the spacious clothing store, eying some of the clothes with detached loathing. Then he looked back at Saphira.

She was fiddling with her phone, not even looking at the clothes. Eragon frowned. Saphira was acting very strangely; why did she suddenly show up at his house, insist on taking him clothes shopping, then start messing with her phone as soon as they got to the store? What was she doing, anyway? Eragon walked up quietly behind Saphira, peeking at the cell phone over her shoulder. His eyes widened.

Arya.

Saphira was _text-messaging Arya._

Something was definitely going on. Eragon paused behind Saphira, beginning to think this over carefully. Arya was nothing short of devious, as well as determined. There was no doubt in Eragon's mind that he was in trouble.

_No, wait,_ the slightly calmer part of Eragon's mind told him. _You don't know what she's up to yet. It could be good._

But it usually wasn't. Eragon winced, remembering Arya's last scheme - the cross-dressing incident. No, this couldn't be good. He'd have to watch Saphira carefully.

"How about this?" Saphira asked suddenly, stopping and pointing to a shirt.

Eragon eyed her carefully, then examined the shirt. It didn't appear to be evil, but with Arya and Saphira you could never be sure. He took it cautiously. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's, uh, cute."

"Cute? Yeah," Saphira said absentmindedly. She swiftly put away the cell phone. "Yeah, it is. Come on, let's find some more stuff." They began to examine various pants and shirts, as well as - to Eragon's horror and embarrassment - boxers. But after a few minutes, when Eragon had found four or five things to try on, Saphira pulled out her cell phone. Eragon peeked at her out of the corner of his eye; she was trying to look casual and failing. She was texting Arya again, then - no, she was just holding the phone, not texting. So she was reading a text message, not sending one.

What was going on? He casually shifted so he could see the screen. _we r here_, the it read. _were r u? _

Saphira glanced up, started when she noticed he was looking, then slid her cell into her pocket. "Eragon," she said, "why don't you go ahead and try those things on?"

"Sure," Eragon replied casually, trying to keep the suspicion off his face. No doubt this was part of their dastardly plan. Thank god Saphira had never been a good actress, or he might not have realized. The question was, what was the plan, and what were they trying to do?

_Not like I want to find out_, Eragon thought. As soon as Saphira turned her back to him, he dropped the small pile of clothing on the ground and quickly slipped away towards the door. She wouldn't notice he was gone until it was too late.

He hurried around a corner, making sure to move through only the taller isles of clothing so that it would be harder to spot him. Soon he was close to the exit. Then out rang the most annoying melody ever known to man...

His cell phone ring tone.

Eragon swore, grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket and fumbling to open it. He hit ignore, noticing as he did that it was Saphira's number._ Damn_, he thought. _She noticed I got away. I've got to get out of here without her noticing me... if she didn't already hear my cell phone go off. _

He sped to the door, going as quickly as he could without the employees yelling at him (not that it'd matter, because they'd just throw him out, and out was were he wanted to go). Unfortunately, walking near the entrance/exit was the only person that Eragon wanted to avoid more than Saphira.

_Arya,_ he thought, horrified. He did the first thing he could think of - he dove into the men's dressing room.

--

"Thorn? What are you doing here?" Murtagh exclaimed, staring at the man who was leaning against the brick wall outside the clothing store.

Thorn shrugged, grinning. "Ask her," he said, pointing to Arya.

Murtagh scowled and looked at Arya. "Arya, this better not be some sort of plot - "

"Plot?" Arya rolled her eyes. "Taggy, you're paranoid. I just thought it'd be fun for the three of us to do stuff together." As soon as Murtagh turned away from her, back to Thorn, she winked at the redhead, who grinned.

Murtagh brushed past them into the store. Thorn and Arya followed at a cautious distance. "What's going on?" Thorn muttered to her.

"Saphira and I were trying to get Murtagh and Eragon alone together, but it got complicated," she whispered back. "We never told Eragon what was going on, but we told Murtagh, and now he's afraid Eragon won't like him. So I lied and brought him here."

"Why here?"

"Eragon's here."

"Oh. So what do I do?"

"Nothing. You're backup. If anything goes wrong, fix it, and try to make sure that Murtagh doesn't see Eragon before I work out a way to make sure he can't take off as soon as he does."

Thorn nodded. "Sure. You know, you're really over complicating this. You could just tell Eragon that Murtagh likes him."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Now go distract Murtagh - I'm going to text Saphira."

Thorn sighed and gave her a swift salute. "As you wish,your highness." He trotted off after Murtagh and began helping him search for a shirt to replace the martini-soaked one.

Arya pulled out her phone. _we r here_, she texted. _were r u? _She then shoved her phone back in her pocket and followed Thorn.

Murtagh pulled a shirt off a rack of clothing. Arya nodded in a approval at it, then glanced around. Eragon and Saphira were nowhere in sight - which was good, because she still hadn't worked out a way to keep Murtagh from bolting as soon as he caught sight of Eragon, but was also bad, because as long as Arya didn't know where Saphira and Eragon were, they could run into each other at any time.

"Who are you looking for?" Murtagh asked suspiciously.

"Saphira," Arya replied, keeping her expression innocent. "She's meeting us here. Go ahead and try that on, I'll go look for her."

"You're paying, right?"

"Sure." Arya gestured to the men's changing room. "Go on."

Murtagh scowled and left and Thorn followed, holding a pair of jeans he was going to try on. Arya hurried through the isles of clothing. Where was Saphira? She still hadn't replied to the message, so she was probably busy with Eragon or something...

She frowned, stopping suddenly, when a very familiar - and irritating - ring tone rang out. Where had she heard it before? As she wondered, something flickered in her peripheral vision. She glanced at it - was that Eragon? But the brunet, whoever it was, had already ducked into the men's dressing room.

"Arya!"

Arya glanced over her shoulder. Saphira hurried towards her, phone in hand. "Have you seen Eragon? I think he made a break for it - he's either caught on or just paranoid."

"Knowing him, it's both," Arya replied, beginning to grin. "As for where he went... let's just say the rest of tonight's events are out of our hands." She glanced at the dressing room, smirking.

--

Eragon's first instinct was to dive into one of the empty stalls, and dive he did. Of the five stalls there, two were occupied, and the nearest empty one was one stall away. He sprinted towards it.

A moment later, he was flat on his back, groaning and clutching his head, with absolutely no idea how he got there. His eyes were tightly shut and watering in pain; cautiously, he cracked them open. A vision of a huge shadowy figure crouched over him swan into focus, and slowly he managed to make out the stalls, the closest of which was open.

"You okay?" asked the figure, sounding concerned. Eragon gave a little moan and tried to focus on the figure, and the man's features came into focus. Red hair, green eyes, gold hooped earring... very familiar face... looked like the spent way too much time in the gym...

Eragon made a little "eep" noise and scrambled away. It was the huge redhead from before! Uh, what was his name...? "Thorn?" he asked.

The redhead grinned. "Hey, you're that Eragon guy! Uh, sorry for hitting you on the head. Or are you supposed to apologize for running into my door?"

"I ran into your door?"

"Yeah. I opened the door to my stall to leave, and bam! You smacked into it. Sorry." He patted Eragon's shoulder sympathetically and stood up. "Need any help?"

"Nah," Eragon muttered, trying to stumble upright. He failed. Miserably. Instead of getting to his feet, he got about half way there and fell down again. Thorn chuckled and offered a hand, and with as much dignity as Eragon could salvage, he took it.

"Why are you here?" Eragon asked when he was finally on his feet. His face paled. "Oh, god, you're not with Saphira and Arya, are you?"

"Mm... difficult to say. I came here with Arya, yeah." Thorn appeared to be thinking about something. He paused, then continued, "You know, Arya's nuts. She's over complicating this."

"Over complicating what? You mean she really is dragging me into another evil plot?" Eragon's face paled further.

Unnoticed to both Thorn and Eragon, Murtagh's stall door clicked open. Murtagh stepped out, shirt in hand, and froze when he saw Eragon.

Thorn shrugged. "It doesn't matter. But, y'know..." He began to grin, and he tousled Eragon's hair affectionately. "I kind of like you, kid, so I'm going to tell you something."

"What?"

"Murtagh... ah, really likes you."

Eragon's eyes widened. Murtagh's face went dead white.

"A lot," Thorn added.

Eragon continued to stare at him disbelievingly. "He does?" he exclaimed.

Thorn nodded. "And I think the world would be a much simpler, happier place if you ignored Arya and just took care of this little matter yourself, yeah?"

Eragon considered this, then nodded. "Yeah, I - "

"Thorn," Murtagh choked out.

Thorn jumped, and he and Eragon blinked to see Murtagh standing there. Eragon froze, not sure what to say - was Thorn just making fun of him? Was this some sort of joke? Should he really confront Murtagh?

"U-um," Eragon stammered. "Murtagh, I - "

The raven-haired young man bolted for the door. Eragon, looking rather dazed, stared at the place Murtagh had been moment before.

"Well?" Thorn said. "What are you waiting for?"

"Huh?"

"Go after him!"

"Oh, okay." Eragon ran through the door, managing to catch a glimpse of Murtagh sprinting through the exit of the store and leaving a pleased Arya, an amused Saphira, and several angry employees in his wake.

"No running in the store!" one of them yelled after Eragon, who just ignored them. He shoved the store door open and ran out, glancing around for Murtagh. To his surprise, he saw Murtagh leaning against the brick wall of the store.

Murtragh gaped at him - clearly he had not expected pursuit. He practically leapt away from the wall and turned to run off again, but Eragon didn't let him - instead, the brunet dove forward and crashed into him, bringing them both down. They rolled on the ground, until Eragon was on top and Murtagh finally went limp. They lay there, panting.

"Well?" Eragon demanded.

"Well what?" Murtagh snapped.

"Was Thorn telling the truth?"

Murtagh glared up at him and didn't answer. Eragon glared back.

"Okay," Murtagh muttered after a moment. He looked away, his cheeks turning a little pink. "I like you."

"Oh." Eragon stared down at him and didn't move.

Murtagh squirmed underneath him. "Are you going to get off now?"

Eragon didn't answer; instead, he leaned down and kissed him.

Murtagh's world froze and faded to nothing as soon as Eragon's lips touched his. He moaned softly, pressing back without really thinking about it and drowning in a sea of exhilaration. He leaned upwards and wrapped his arms around Eragon's neck, pressing their bodies together more tightly.

Someone wolf-whistled. Murtagh watched, feeling dazed, as Eragon jerked away and turned an adorable shade of bright pink. Arya, Saphira, and Thorn stood by the entrance of the store, all three of the them grinning and Arya with her camera phone in hand.

"Ignore them," Murtagh insisted, tugging Eragon back down. Their eyes met, and Eragon's blush darkened a bit. "Does this mean you like me?"

"Uh, well, I think you're a really nice guy, and since you like me..." Somehow Eragon's blush managed to darken even further. His face was now a previously unknown shade of scarlet. "I just thought maybe I could... give you shot - "

Murtagh kissed him again, and Eragon immediately forgot that three of their friends were watching.

"Maybe we should stop them?" Thorn suggested. "Y'know, before they start having sex on the sidewalk?"

"Nah," Saphira said, and then noticed Arya grinning and sending a picture on her cell phone. "What are you doing?"

"Amusing myself," Arya chuckled.

"You didn't."

Arya's grin widened; she winked and put her cell phone away. "Did what?"

--

Roran was draped across the couch, watching a movie, when his cell phone vibrated. "Wonder what this is?" he muttered, pulling it out of his pocket.


	4. Speeding: 100 mph Romance

**I'm back!**

**Yes, I'm aware I've been gone for months. But after that /long/ vacation from writing, I feel a bit better. I sort of freaked out for a while about the quality of my writing. **

**And I'm sorry, but I'm dropping Solitude. I don't know what it is, but I think I'm just incapable to writing a story that long and that serious in the world Paolini's set up. It's just got too many boundaries and it's just too frustrating – I think I'm just not cut out for writing anything hardcore fantasy. I'm going to stick to doing oneshots when it comes to the canon setting from now on. **

**So, without further ado, the fourth chapter: the trouble begins. **

--

There was something about the moonlight.

Yes, of that much Eragon was sure. It certainly lent something to the moment – shining on the hood of the car, throwing Murtagh's pale skin and dark hair into stark contrast, falling on the trash littering the floor of the car. Without it, Eragon might have called this moment interesting, maybe cute; with it, it was oddly romantic.

"Y-you do realize," Murtagh panted, "that w-we've only… ngh… been dating… f-f-fifteen m-minutes."

"Yeah, and we wasted five of it getting here," Eragon said, also out of breath. "Gotta make up for lost time." Again, he kissed Murtagh, this time with more fervor. Murtagh groaned softly, kissing back with equal ferocity.

Murtagh was currently lying across the back seat of his car, having been pinned there by Eragon as soon as he'd gotten the door open to toss his martini-soaked shirt in. His mind spun, struggling to comprehend the fact that Eragon – _Eragon_ – was pressed against him, teeth and tongue and lips doing positively sinful things to his neck. The brunet was taking full advantage of Murtagh's defenseless position, straddling his "victim" and keeping his hands firmly planted next to Murtagh's arms, pinning them to his sides. Murtagh, oddly enough, wasn't feeling the urge to resist. At the moment, he was just grateful they were both still fully clothed. This was, after all, public.

Oh, wait. There went his shirt.

Murtagh shivered as cold air hit his now bare chest, and gripped the seat cushions tightly, biting his lip until it bled to keep from moaning like a virgin. He was torn between staying where he was and letting Eragon do whatever the hell he wanted, versus showing the younger man who was going to be in charge in this relationship. Eragon wasn't allowed to do this! He wasn't the one in charge – he was the uke, the virgin, the bottom. Bottoms weren't supposed to do things like this.

And, of course, there was one other problem that was nagging at him. "E-Eragon," Murtagh managed to gasp. "W-we're in the… ah! P-parking… lot… ngh… of a strip m-mall… w-we c-can't…"

Eragon nibbled gently on Murtagh's ear lobe, and Murtagh lost his train of thought. The brunet shifted slightly so that he was pressing more firmly against Murtagh's now obvious arousal. After a moment, he smirked and pulled away. Murtagh stared up at him, panting. "What now?" Eragon asked, the picture of innocence.

Murtagh struggled to remember what the hell had been bothering him that was so important that he'd had to make Eragon stop. After a moment, it started to come back to him. "We, we're in a parking lot. The strip mall parking lot, and I told Saphira and Arya I'd take you home. And the door's open. And you can't –"

Eragon snorted. "Like they really believed you when you told them that's all you were going to do with me."

_Clarity!_ cried some little corner of Murtagh's mind. _That makes perfect sense. Now, agree with him and beg him to keep on doing what he was doing. _

Murtagh opened his mouth to do just that before firmly slamming the lid on that thought. _No, Eragon is not in charge,_ Murtagh reminded himself firmly. _I am, and I need to remind him of that. _

He grasped Eragon's shirt and pulled him close, smirking. "I'm not objecting to your… enthusiasm," he said, keeping his voice low and husky. He paused, slowly raked his eyes up what he could see of Eragon's body, then licked his lips. Just as he predicted, Eragon shivered and his body tensed. Murtagh's smirk became wicked. Perfect. If he could just keep up the seductive act, Eragon would be begging to submit.

He lifted his face a few inches, so that their lips were almost touching. "I'm also not objecting to taking you home," he whispered. "Where we would be all alone. But I am objecting to the fact that anyone who passes by has a lovely view of us practically tearing each other's clothes off."

Eragon hesitated, clearly off balance from Murtagh's sudden change in attitude. He sighed, then slid off Murtagh, who rose to a sitting position.

Eragon made as if to step out of the car, but Murtagh was faster. Before Eragon could understand just how, Murtagh was straddling his lap, smirking and using one hand to tilt the brunet's chin upward. Their eyes met for an instant before Murtagh closed all remaining distant between them in a ferocious kiss. Murtagh could feel Eragon tense beneath him, then press back, and he took this as a sign to deepen the kiss. Murtagh ground his hips against those beneath him, earning a gasp. Murtagh resisted the urge to grin – he was definitely in control again, and it had only taken him a few moments.

Murtagh pulled back, and Eragon whimpered in protest. "C'mon," Murtagh said. "Let's go somewhere private, shall we?"

Eragon hesitated, then shook his head. "We can't go to my house," he said. "Roran. He's probably still feeling… protective."

Murtagh grimaced at the thought of Eragon's cousin. Luckily, Eragon didn't catch the expression. "Damn. Hadn't thought of that. And we can't go to my dorm room, because Thorn's probably there. There's really nowhere else, either, unless you've got the money for a motel or something."

Eragon looked disappointed. Murtagh felt a twinge of pride_. I don't know what I worrying about,_ he thought. _This kid is crazy about me._ "Should I drive you home, then?" he offered, and slid off Eragon's lap to step out the door.

--

Eragon was smiling when he stepped through the door into his home.

Murtagh was wonderful, funny, deep, easy to talk to – one you got past all the conceit and selfishness, of course, though Eragon didn't mind that. Everyone had flaws. They'd talked on the way home, just like they had the first time Murtagh had asked Eragon to grab some fast food with him, and Murtagh really seemed to think about things. Important things. It was nice, having someone to talk to that wasn't a girl, a protective older cousin, or completely insane.

As Eragon walked past the living room, he glanced in. Roran sat on the couch frowning absentmindedly at his cell phone. He glanced up at Eragon.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Eragon said back, and turned to keep walking to his room. But Roran spoke again, and Eragon paused.

"Anything interesting happen?" Roran asked.

Eragon bit his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. Anything interesting happen? Other than Murtagh, no. "Not really," he said aloud. "Why?"

Roran hesitated. "You're just home earlier than I thought." He turned his attention back to the TV, though he seemed preoccupied with something. Eragon shrugged and went to his room.

He collapsed on his bed, smiling broadly and not even bothering to change out of his clothes. "Murtagh Morzanson," he whispered. "Conceited bastard, independent bad-boy, deep-down nice guy, and my boyfriend." He continued to grin. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his pants, tossing them aside then pulling the covers over himself. He closed his eyes.

_Maybe we're taking this too fast,_ he thought suddenly.

He frowned and opened his eyes, startled out of his good mood with that random thought. _We started making out as soon as we were alone, only a few minutes after we started dating,_ he realized. _And we've only known each other a few days. What if it's just his body and attitude I like? Or what if that's not all I like, but that's all he likes?_

He sighed, his euphoria now dead as road kill. "It doesn't matter," he muttered. "I've got time to figure this out, right?"

He nodded and closed his eyes again. Within a few moments, he was asleep.

Back in the living room, Roran continued to frown at his phone. What the hell had Eragon been doing tonight? Saphira had said they were just going clothes shopping… and that she was going to try to get Eragon a boyfriend.

He flipped his cell phone open and went to the picture that Arya had sent him, then tried to make it out for the hundredth time. He could tell that it was of two people lying entangled on the ground, and the background looked like cement. The person on top was Eragon, that much was obvious.

But the person underneath was what worried Roran. All he could really see was a mop of black hair and some pale skin, since the picture was, after all, taken on a cell phone from a distance at night. Of course it wasn't high-quality. But still… the person almost looked like… well, he couldn't really tell… but… maybe… it was…

Morzanson?

_Nah,_ Roran decided. _I chased him off. Eragon found somebody else, and he'll mention it in a few days; either that, or Arya is just trying to mess with me._

--

Eragon spent the next few days feeling dazed and happy. He quickly fell into a routine – wake up, go to class, avoid Arya whenever she was looking for a model or a mannequin, go to another class, then spend the rest of the day with either Saphira or Murtagh. The problem of explaining his new boyfriend to Roran faded into the background, though Eragon caught Roran giving him suspicious glances every once in a while.

Two of his three closest friends and family – Arya, Saphira, and Roran – approved of his choice in a boyfriend, the weather was great, and the worst thing that had happened all week was Murtagh losing his cell phone. Naturally, Eragon thought he was doing fairly well, relationship-wise.

He had not, of course, taken any of Murtagh's friends into consideration.

He was walking down the street at the time, having just watched no less than three chick flicks with Arya and Saphira (the horror); after all, it was Friday, and they did this every Friday, though Eragon wasn't sure why. Everything was fairly quiet, with crickets cheeping in the background, when his cell phone rang.

Eragon paused and pulled out his cell phone. _1 new text from 666-0069_, it read. Eragon blinked in surprise. Why was Murtagh texting him at eleven-thirty at night? He opened the phone and scanned the message.

_r u busy?_ it read.

_no,_ Eragon typed, then hit send.

A moment later, his phone rang again. _will you come by my dorm room?_ it read this time.

Eragon grinned. Was this about what he thought it was? Late at night, meeting his boyfriend in a private place… roommate hopefully nowhere in sight…

_sure,_ he typed. _but i need a ride. ive never been 2 __ur__ place._

_where r u?_

_the corner of surda street and __Varden avenue__,_ he answered.

_k, _was the simple reply.

Eragon snapped his phone shut and put it back in his pocket. He leaned against a lamppost and began to wait, wondering what Murtagh wanted. No doubt Murtagh's roommate happened to be out of the dorm room for the night, and Murtagh wanted to take advantage of the privacy.

A few minutes later, he jumped as he heard a roar that could only be described as the sound Eragon thought an angry dragon might make. A maroon car came tearing down the street, screeching to a halt at the corner in front of Eragon. Eragon stared at it, wide-eyed, as the window rolled down.

The huge redhead from before looked out at him, grinning broadly. "Get in, kid," the redhead said.

Eragon paled slightly. Next he did what anyone would do if two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle told him to do something – he obeyed. He opened the passenger seat door and sat down. As soon as the door clicked shut again, they were roaring down the street while the redhead hummed pleasantly. For the sake of his sanity, Eragon avoided looking at the speedometer on the dashboard.

Eragon glanced nervously at Thorn. Maybe this wasn't what he thought it was, then. Unless the redhead was gay, too, and into threesomes… which he probably wasn't.

"Uh, i-it's Thorn, right?" Eragon asked after a moment.

The redhead nodded. "Yeah. How're things going for you, kid?"

"Fine, I guess," Eragon said nervously.

"Really?" Thorn asked cheerfully. He jerked the steering wheel to the left and they screeched around a corner, narrowly missing a lamppost. "How're things with Murtagh, then? You two had sex yet?"

"Have we _what_?"

"Oh, you haven't?" Eragon flinched as they almost hit a stray cat. Thorn continued talking as if this was normal (it probably was). "That's interesting. Usually takes him about a day, day and a half. What's it been, a week?"

"Uh… yeah, almost." Eragon glanced nervously at Thorn. "What are you going to do with me?"

Thorn winked. "It's a secret."

Eragon didn't argue. When they finally jerked to a halt in front of a dorm building, Eragon stumbled out of the car, feeling a bit dizzy, while Thorn led they way to the room, whistling happily. After a minute of walking, Thorn stopped at a door and knocked three times and a female voice called out, "Who is it?"

"Thorn. I've got the kid," Thorn said.

The door opened. There stood a girl about the same age as Eragon. Her lively green eyes examined him while she wound a strand of her red hair around one finger. She let the hair fall back into place and crossed her slender arms over her chest. It was then that Eragon noticed that in one hand she held a cell phone that looked almost like… Murtagh's? 

Eragon had just enough time to feel a twinge of suspicion before a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides, and a cloth was wrapped around his eyes. He opened his mouth to yell, but Thorn covered it. Before he could even begin to fight back, he was dragged inside. Eragon struggled ferociously – he was a Rider, damn it! He wasn't going down without a fight.

He was shoved into a chair and his hands were pulled behind his back, around the back of the chair. A rope was wrapped around his wrists. "What the _hell_?" Eragon panted.

"Calm down, kid," Thorn said. Eragon felt him finish securing the rope, then heard him move to somewhere in front.

"Where's Murtagh?" Eragon demanded.

"Why?" It was the girl's voice this time.

"So I can kill him!"

The girl laughed. "Don't worry about it," she said. "This isn't his fault."

Eragon wriggled his hands experimentally. The bindings only tightened; he wouldn't be able to get free. _Calm down,_ he told himself when he felt the first twinges of panic rise in his chest. _Thorn seems like a nice guy, and that girl didn't exactly look threatening. _

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer truthfully," the girl said.

Eragon licked his lips nervously. _Go along with it,_ he told himself. "Okay," he said.

"Good," said the girl. She seemed to be more or less in charge; Thorn was probably just the person who was supposed to stand there and look threatening. Which probably would have been very effective, had Eragon not been blindfolded.

"It's Eragon, right? Eragon Rider?" the girl continued.

Eragon nodded. "Yeah."

"Any past boyfriends?" she asked.

"No one serious enough to be called that." _Why the hell do they want to know that? _he thought.

"No problem there, then. Past girlfriends?"

"One." He flushed slightly.

There was a pause. "She still around? Any danger of her coming back and seducing you or something?" she said.

Eragon flushed. "She, uh… came out of the closest two months after I did. Three since we'd broken up."

There was a rumbling noise. It took Eragon a moment to realize it was a laugh. "Arya?" Thorn asked.

Eragon flushed a bit more. "Yeah."

"Who?" came the girl's voice.

"Murtagh's lesbian cousin," Eragon heard Thorn explain. "You've met her once or twice, I think."

"Lesbian? Oh, that's good. No trouble with her, then," the girl mused. "Now,  
Rider, tell me something. Are you scared?"

Eragon shrugged (which was surprisingly easy, despite the fact he was tied to a chair). "I was a few minutes ago."

"Not any more, though, right?" said the girl. "Good. You've passed test number one, then. Next question: how do you feel about Murtagh?"

Eragon stiffened, disbelieving. _That's what all this is about,_ he realized. _They're deciding if they want me dating Murtagh!_

"C'mon, kid. Answer the question," said Thorn.

Eragon hesitated. "Why?"

"Two reasons. One, as a guy you need to learn to embrace and understand your emotions," explained the girl. "Expressing them out loud helps you work them out."

"And the second reason?"

Thorn chuckled. "Simple. If you don't answer, we'll keep you here until you do."

Eragon scowled.

"Well?" the redheaded girl demanded.

Again, Eragon hesitated. "Well, he… I don't know. It's confusing, okay? I mean, we've known each other less than a week and a half, and we've only been dating for a few days. I don't understand why this feels like it does."

"Go on," the girl urged him when he paused. "How does what feel like it does?"

"When he kisses me," he muttered, flushing red. "The way that feels. I, I feel like I'm on fire wherever we're touching. The difference between kissing Murtagh and kissing anyone else is like the difference between kissing a man and kissing a woman to me. It just doesn't compare. But… I don't really know him, and he doesn't know me."

"You want to take it slow with him?" the girl asked.

"Yeah, I do, but…" Eragon paused, struggling to work things out in his head. "But I also don't, even though I know that going as quickly as we are might mess everything up. The faster you drive the easier it is to crash, y'know? But half the time we're together, maybe more, we're practically tearing each other's clothes off. It's… weird, that it feels so normal to want someone who's almost a stranger this badly."

There was silence for a long moment.

"I think he passed," the girl said. "Thorn, you wanna say anything?"

"I'm the muscle, not a judge."

Eragon blinked as the blindfold was pulled off. He was sitting in a fairly small room – the tiny living room area of the dorm room he'd been dragged into. Across from him, sitting on the couch, was the redheaded girl. She met his gaze evenly. To her left, Thorn was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, looking amused by all this. He grinned at Eragon when the brunet looked his way.

"Kid, this is my adorable little sister, Katrina," Thorn said, nodding to the girl. "She's also Murtagh's self-appointed mother."

The girl flushed and glared at him. "Am not!" Thorn just chuckled.

"Nice to meet you," Eragon said, the tugged at his bound wrists pointedly. "Can you untie me now?"

Thorn grinned. "I'll consider it."

Eragon scowled and glanced at Katrina, to see if she would be any more merciful than her brother. She didn't seem to notice the look Eragon gave her. She was staring at him oddly, twirling a strand of red hair around one finger.

"What the hell is all this about, anyway?" Eragon demanded.

She blinked, startled out of her reverie. She hesitated and seemed about to speak, but then the door opened, and all three pairs of eyes flickered over to see who it was. Murtagh walked in, a bag slung over his shoulder, doubtlessly full of books. He stopped when he saw Eragon. For a moment, he just stared, then looked at Thorn and Katrina.

Murtagh stared at them silently for a moment. Then he raised his eyebrows. "What the hell?" He tossed his bag onto the ground and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're back early," Thorn said casually, as if there wasn't an attractive young man bound to a chair three feet away. He went to the kitchen area and began to rustle around the fridge. "I thought your last class didn't end until about 12:30."

"Professor Oromis was sick today – strep throat or something," Murtagh replied. "He got about halfway through the lecture before his voice gave out completely and he gave up, so we got out a bit earlier. Does anyone mind telling me why my boyfriend is tied to a chair?"

Katrina flushed slightly. "I wanted to meet him."

"More like interrogate me," Eragon muttered. Katrina and Murtagh both ignored him.

Murtagh stared at Katrina hard. "So you kidnapped him and tied him to a chair. Of course. Tell me, does this have anything to do with my missing cell phone?"

Katrina flushed a bit more and held it out to him. Murtagh took it.

Eragon tugged pointedly at his bound wrists. "Little help, Tag?"

Murtagh's mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly, as if he was trying not to smirk. A wicked glint flickered in his eyes. "In a minute." He glanced at Katrina, who was still standing nearby. "Are you done interrogating my boyfriend, or are you going to stick around a bit longer?" he asked her.

"Consider me gone," Katrina said, and grabbed her coat from were it was lying on the couch. She pulled it on and was out the door in moments.

Murtagh glanced at the remaining green-eyed redhead. "Thorn?" he asked. Eragon missed the wink that was passed between them.

Thorn grinned. "Y'know, I don't have any classes tomorrow, and it's too great a night to spend it indoors and sleeping. I think I'll go out, maybe do some stargazing for a while, maybe sleep somewhere else if I get tired. See you later, kid." When he passed Eragon, he ruffled the brunet's hair affectionately.

When the door closed, Murtagh smirked and leaned against the wall.

"Are you going to untie me, or what?" Eragon demanded.

"Hmm." Murtagh moved closer slowly, eyes narrowed. He paced around to the back of the chair, then knelt. Eragon felt Murtagh's warm hand play with the rope absentmindedly, in no way moving as if to undo the knot. Murtagh's warm breath ghosted over Eragon's neck. "I don't think so," Murtagh murmured. "I kind of like you like this."

Eragon licked his lips, feeling his pants tighten at just the thought.

He was screwed.

Possibly literally.

"Oh, whatever shall I do," Eragon said teasingly. "At the mercy of an evil college student, who, apparently, is into bondage."

Murtagh chuckled. "You shouldn't mock your captor, Rider." His hand stayed down Eragon's thigh almost absentmindedly, then squeezed him. Eragon's breath hitched in his throat.

But the hand was moving away all too soon, and then just teasingly brushing his thigh. "Eager, aren't we?" Murtagh whispered. Eragon shivered as the man's breath tickled his ear. He didn't reply, expecting Murtagh to continue, but instead of more soft touches or words there was hesitation.

Eragon froze for a moment, playing those words over in his mind. Eager.

_A few more minutes and I'll probably be begging him to have sex with me,_ Eragon realized. _And I think I'm serious about him? I think he's serious about _me_? _

These thoughts vanished as Eragon felt Murtagh's hand press against the bulge in his pants again. "Let's take care of that, shall we?" Murtagh said quietly. He must have moved, because Eragon noticed that now Murtagh was kneeling in front of him, pushing his legs further apart, undoing his pants and pulling them off, tugging his boxers lower and then just lips and tongue and mouth and _heat_…

--

A while later, Eragon found himself staring up at the ceiling, as he did every night before going to sleep. This night was a bit different, though. He smiled wryly, glancing at Murtagh, who was curled up on the floor next to him. Murtagh's chest rose and fell with the calm, regular pace of sleep, his eyes closed and his expression peaceful.

_He almost looks innocent,_ Eragon thought absentmindedly.

Eragon glanced at his cell phone, which was lying (along with his pants) several feet away. For about the sixth time since Murtagh had fallen asleep, Eragon's thoughts turned to Roran. Protective and perceptive Roran. 

Eragon closed his eyes. At least he was safe from his cousin's wrath for the moment. Roran would just assume he'd decided to stay over at Saphira's for the night. It was Friday night, and it wasn't uncommon for Eragon to sleep at his best friend's house after a night of movies and stuffing themselves with popcorn.

"Everything's going to turn out fine," he muttered, drifting off to sleep. "Roran'll get over it, and Katrina and Thorn like me… and Saphira and Arya like Murtagh… everything's gonna be… fine…"

Right?

**end chapter 4**

**This isn't over by a long shot. We've still go so many things to do! Three more couples to set up, another character to introduce, two more problems to make, plus the problem that's already been introduced makes three that have to be fixed… **

**But before I do the next chapter, I think I'm going to go catch up on the stories my favorite slash authors have written during my vacation… I've been neglecting them. **


	5. Crash and Burn: Nasuada Returns

**Le gasp! A new chapter, could it be? Yes, I've finally updated. And I must say, this was a very entertaining chapter to write. It's hard to be dramatic and funny at the same time, not to mention the dash of angst. Not sure how that dash got there, but it is, so watch out. **

**Enjoy.**

--

Let it never be said that Nasuada Queen as an indecisive person.

Careful? Yes. Level-headed? But of course. Charismatic? She could convince at cat to drown itself. She took what she needed, did what needed to be done, thought ahead when something needed thinking about, and compromised when it was necessary. And while law school might have toughened her a bit, she was creative and kind when she let herself go… once every few years. But hey, former valedictorians couldn't all be party animals, right?

Not that she was intimidating – not at all. Really, she wasn't.

And when that bastard shoved her when she was getting off the train, and she elbowed him in the gut? His fault entirely. She was normally very sweet, of course. And when he turned and scowled at her, demanding she apologize…

Well, he deserved that left hook to the jaw.

She strode through the subway station like a queen, tossing her curly black hair over her shoulder in a business-like manner. She moved quickly, moving through the crowd purposefully towards the stairs that led up to the street. When she was finally out in the city air, she smiled and glanced around. Nothing had changed since she'd left for law school. Even the bums on the street looked the same. Cute.

She rustled through her purse, pulling out a chocolate-colored cell phone. She flipped it open, dialed a number, and pressed it to her ear. "Kat? It's Nas. What's up?"

--

Maybe he _was_ in love.

This was the first thought that entered Murtagh's head as his eyes fluttered open. He lay there, silent and still, allowing the drowsiness of sleep to drift away from his mind. He felt oddly… comfortable, relaxed. Peaceful. He'd never felt like that before. Weird. Kind of nice, though. How strange, to wake up covered in a thin blanket, curled up with a guy you met a week or two ago, half-dressed on the floor of your own dorm room next to what appeared to be a broken chair. And how strange to be happy about it.

He yawned and glanced to his right, where Eragon was curled up next to him. He smiled faintly. Eragon was so cute while he was sleeping. Adorable, really. The brown hair ruffled and sticking up every which way, the faint snoring, the peaceful, blank expression. Just adorable. Murtagh chuckled softly. If he didn't watch it, he'd turn into a complete sap.

He found himself lazily wondering what, exactly, had happened last night.

Oh, he knew well enough. He shifted slightly, and found his arm curled around his boyfriend's waist. He smiled faintly and pulled Eragon closer, who sighed and snuggled closer, mumbling in his sleep. What had happened, indeed. He rolled the idea around in his head. He and Eragon had gone their furthest yet, but not, well, _far_. Not as far as Murtagh was used to, that was.

_Oh well_, he mused. _We'll get to sex eventually. _He allowed his eyes to drift shut, perfectly content to doze next to his One True Love.

Murtagh stiffened a moment later.

Wait, what?

Oh, no no no no NO. He sat upright with a start. No, something was wrong here. What was happening to him? Was he turning into some sort of lovesick teenager that believed every horny idiot he met on the street was his fated lover? Since when had he thought of sex as something he _might_ eventually get to? That wasn't how it worked. Heck, usually it was sex first, then maybe some sort of relationship, usually one that called to mind the term "fuck-buddy".

_Maybe this is different_, said a tiny voice in the back of his mind – it was the one that sounded like Katrina this time. _Maybe this is love._

_And maybe Dad will rise from the grave, sprout angel wings, and apologize to every single daisy he ever accidentally stepped on,_ he snapped back at it. He started to get up, then glanced down at Eragon.

His expression softened slightly, and he hesitated.

Then Eragon groaned and stirred, and Murtagh snapped back to reality. Feeling rather ashamed of himself – what was _happening_ to him? – he scrambled upright and away from Eragon. Perhaps the brunet was broadcasting some sort of nefarious mind-scrambling ray/frequency thing that was confusing him. Better safe than sorry, Murtagh decided, and moved father away to the tiny kitchen.

Eragon yawned and stretched as Murtagh began to rustle around in the tiny pantry. "G'morning," Eragon mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning," Murtagh said. Apparently dissatisfied with the selection of food in the tiny pantry, he moved to the tiny fridge and rustled around in there instead. He pulled out a box of frozen waffles and made for the toaster.

Eragon smiled at him sleepily, and propped himself up on his elbows. After a bit more stretching (which Murtagh appreciated quite a bit), he seemed to wake up a bit more. "How do you do that?" he asked after a moment, yawning again.

"Do what?"

Eragon grinned mischievously. "Do something like what we did, sleep on the floor, and then wake up looking like _that_."

Murtagh raised his eyebrows and glanced down at himself. He was shirtless and wearing a thin, old pair of pajama pants. "Look like what?"

Eragon's grin became wicked. "Sexy."

Murtagh stared at him in surprise, then laughed. The tension he'd been feeling earlier eased. "Look who's talking," he said. "And since when do you make perverted cracks?"

"You're rubbing off on me," Eragon said, getting up. "What time is it?"

Murtagh shrugged. "About eleven."

"I should probably get home before Roran calls Arya or Saphira and finds out I'm not with them." Eragon finger-combed his fair and began to locate all the clothing he'd been wearing last night. A minute or to later, he had two shoes, one sock, a slightly mangled belt, a shirt, and his pants. His favorite pair of blue boxers, a sock, and two buttons from his shirt were nowhere to be found. Now more or less fully dressed, Eragon kissed Murtagh lightly on the cheek. "Bye," he said.

Murtagh's heart did the strangest little flutter he'd ever felt. He chuckled and pulled Eragon closer, then kissed him on the mouth suddenly and strongly. "That," he said when they parted, "is how you say goodbye."

Eragon laughed, agreed, and spent the next several minutes "saying goodbye" to his boyfriend.

--

When Eragon got home, he was felt light and happy. For once, his life seemed to be getting better. He had a boyfriend – a smart boyfriend, a hot boyfriend, a boyfriend who understood him, a boyfriend he was beginning to think he could really get serious about. He'd had his doubts yesterday, but who didn't sometimes? Murtagh obviously had real feelings for him, right?

Eragon was humming absentmindedly as he opened the front door and went in, kicking off his shoes.

Life was good.

When he passed the living room, he paused and glanced in. Roran was sitting on the couch, frowning thoughtfully at the TV. This would have been normal, except for the fact that the TV wasn't on, and Roran was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Eragon blinked at his cousin, who just continued to stare. Eragon shrugged and started to head to his room.

He pulled off his dirty shirt and tossed it in a pile of laundry on the floor. He went to his closet and began to rustle around in it, looking for a suitable replacement. Just as he managed to locate one and pull it over his head, his phone rang. He straightened the shirt and grabbed his cell phone from where he'd left it on the dresser. The number was Arya's.

He flipped the lid open and pressed "talk". "Hello?"

Arya didn't waste time with formalities between friends. _"Eragon, I need a favor."_

Eragon scowled. "If it involves drag, count me out."

"_First of all, I've only dressed you up like a woman twice, one of which you probably don't even remember. You were drunk. Secondly, no that's not it." _

Eragon pulled open a drawer in the dresser and began to search through it. "What is it?"

"_Have you gotten Saphira a present yet?" _

Eragon froze. "What?"

"_What do you mean, what? Her birthday present." _

"Birthday prese – shit!" Eragon exclaimed.

"_I take it you forgot." _

"Well, uh, yeah," Eragon said, flushing. He'd been kind of distracted by his troubled love life, true, but that wasn't an excuse for forgetting his best friend's birthday. _Idiot_, he scolded himself. "Are you still planning that party for her?" he asked. He pulled out a pair of clean pants from the drawer he'd been searching through and started to change clothes.

"_It's the day after tomorrow."_

"Oh. Right. So, the favor?"

"_I, uh... haven't gotten her a present, either. But I'll be so busy today finishing up the preparations that I won't have time to go get one, and I've got too many classes tomorrow to do anything."_

"So you want me to be a nice servant and go out and get one while I'm getting mine."

"_I'll pay you back if you do, and if you don't, I still have those pictures of you in the bra." _

Eragon scowled. "Fine."

"Eragon?"

Eragon turned towards the door. Roran was standing there, still wearing that same frown he'd had before. He gestured curtly to the phone in Eragon's hand. "Call whoever it is back later. We need to talk."

Eragon quickly nodded. Roran didn't look very happy at the moment; no need to disagree with him and get him irritated. "Arya, I have to go," he said into the phone. "Talk to you later?"

_"Sure."_

Eragon closed the cell phone and put it in his pocket. "What do you want?" he said to Roran.

"It's about last night." Roran leaned on the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eragon hesitated. _A lie_, he thought nervously. _I need a lie. Where was I? Saphira's. Movie night. Good, that's it. _"Yeah?" he said.

"Where were you?"

"Uh – "

"And don't say at Saphira's house."

Eragon flushed. _Crap. _

Roran gestured to the bed. "Sit down."

Eragon sat down. _Here it comes_, he thought.

"Tell me the truth," Roran said. "Where were you last night, and what were you doing?"

Eragon flinched. Roran had that look in his eyes – the one that told Eragon in no uncertain terms that Murtagh knew the answer to both those questions. The fact that Eragon had hickeys on his neck probably didn't help his case, either. Eragon hesitated. "I was… oh, fine. I was at Murtagh's dorm room."

"And?"

"And we didn't have sex."

Roran raised his eyebrows.

"Really," Eragon insisted. "We just…" He flushed red. "We fooled around a bit, but we didn't actually insert rod 'A' into slot 'B' at any point. I swear."

Roran eyed his suspiciously, then sighed. "Fine. I believe you."

Eragon blinked. "Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. Look… Eragon…" Roran ran his finger through his hair, a nervous habit of his. "I'm a little concerned, all right? This Morzanson guy... he's untrustworthy, and there's no doubt in my mind he's after one thing and one thing alone. He seems like the kind of guy who flirts with any pretty face he comes across, and as soon as he's in his victim's pants he dumps them for the next guy. You just don't want to believe that."

That _stung_. Eragon glared at Roran. "You knew him for five minutes before you already decided I couldn't date him," he snapped. "And you think _he's _the one with the problem."

Roran grimaced. "That's what I'm talking about, Eragon. I realize I might have been a bit… judgmental. That's what I want to talk to you about. So, can we?"

Well, _this_ had certainly never happened before. "Can we what?" Eragon asked warily.

"Just sit here and talk about it. No getting up and walking away, right? We're going to work this out," Roran said.

Eragon nodded cautiously.

"Good," Roran said. He struggled with what to say. "I, uh… damn."

"What?"

"I didn't actually think I'd get this far," Roran admitted. "Look, I'm just no good at this parenting stuff. I mean, I shouldn't even _be_ parenting. I'm only twenty-two. I'm your _cousin_." He laughed nervously. "But, uh… yeah. So…" He cleared his throat and his cheeks turned faintly pink. "So, you haven't done anything with this guy. Sexually, that is."

"No."

"And, you, uh, know what happens if you and he…well… and he happens to have… he seems to be the kind of guy that's had quite a few, um, partners, and…" Roran's face went from pink to red. "What I mean is, you know about STDs, right?"

Eragon stared at Roran in horror. "What? Yes!"

"Oh," Roran said, looking relieved. "Well. That's one less topic to cover."

Eragon groaned and buried his head in his hands. If he was lucky, the embarrassment would hurry up and kill him before they got much farther. "So what are your demands?" he asked.

Roran sighed. "There aren't any demands, Eragon. I've been thinking about this for the past few days, and… even though I would do anything I could to stop you from doing this, you're an adult. You can do what you want."

Eragon gaped at him.

He pinched himself.

No, that definitely hurt. He wasn't dreaming.

"No, seriously," Eragon said. "Demands? Put a shock color on him so he can't get too close? Lock me in a tower? Put a contact-lens sized camera in my eye so you can see and record everything he does?"

Roran took a deep breath. "Eragon," he said slowly, "you're nineteen. And while you're never going to stop being my baby cousin, you're an adult and if I keep making your own decisions for you, you'll never learn to act like one. You're old enough to make your own mistakes. You can date this guy if you want. I won't stop you."

Eragon expression was one of pure disbelief. "Really? You don't care?"

Roran shook his head. "I care. I just won't stop you. But I want to tell you some things first, as part of the deal, and then I want to go talk to him."

"Go ahead," Eragon said.

"First, I want you to be careful. He might just be after sex; a lot of guys are like that. If he insists on having you do anything you don't want to just a few days after asking you out, and his excuse is 'but we're in love', then you've got a problem. I don't trust this guy, so I want you to be more careful than normal."

Eragon nodded. "Okay…" That wouldn't be a problem, of course. Murtagh hadn't made him do anything he didn't want to last night.

"Second, move slowly. Don't speed things up just because you're impatient – it's like building a house, only you do the foundation so quickly it's shoddy and the rest of the house collapses once it's built. It doesn't work."

Eragon winced. They'd already messed that one up.

"Third, don't delude yourself. You might think of someone you're in love with as perfect, but you've still got to acknowledge their flaws. People are perfect because of their flaws, sometimes."

Again, Eragon nodded. That was easy. Murtagh didn't trust people, was kind of selfish at points, was kind of bad-tempered to anyone but people like his boyfriend and Thorn. Eragon just didn't care. The flaws were the interesting part, right?

"Good," Roran said. He stood up. "Now, where does this Murtagh guy live?"

"What? Why?" Eragon asked.

Roran grabbed his keys. "We're going to talk to him."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. It has to be today, and I have plans later," Roran replied. "Come on." And before Eragon could protest, Roran dragged him out the door.

--

When Eragon left, the first thing Murtagh did was take a shower. The second was start to get dressed – key word, "start". Once he'd gotten a clean pair of pants on, someone knocked on the door. Deciding shirts were entirely optional, he went to the door.

Murtagh hadn't known what to expect, really. Who could it be? Thorn wouldn't knock, he lived here. Katrina would just barge in, and so would Arya, and probably Eragon, too. The person he had been least expecting, however, was his ex-girlfriend, so when he opened the door he got quite a shock.

"Nasuada?" Murtagh exclaimed, staring in disbelief at the woman who stood outside his doorway.

"Murtagh," Nasuada said. She smiled at him. "Been while, huh?"

Murtagh continued to gape at her.

Nasuada raised a delicate black eyebrow. "Are you going to let me in?"

Murtagh stammered for several seconds before finally just moving. Nasuada strode in like she owned the place. She glanced around – it was a bit of a mess. There was what appeared to be a broken chair near the couch, along with… rope? Nasuada stared at it curiously, then smirked and glanced at Murtagh's naked chest, which displayed several hickeys. Of course. Typical Murtagh.

"Uh, Nasuada, what are you doing here?" Murtagh asked nervously.

Nasuada shrugged. "I missed my friends? I haven't been back here in nearly a year, and I've got some time off from school, so I thought, why not go see what Katrina, Thorn, and Murtagh are up to. And here I am."

"Ah," Murtagh said.

Nasuada sat on the couch. "Wow," she commented. "Comfy, but I think there's something..." She frowned and reached under herself, inbetween the cushions. She drew her hands away again, and with it came a pair of blue boxers. She glanced up Murtagh and raised her eyebrows. "Still have a healthy sex life, I see," she commented, and dropped the boxers on the floor. She smiled teasingly. "But why are you so nervous?"

Murtagh shook his head. "It's nothing," he said.

Well, in truth it was simply that they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, but Murtagh didn't want to bring that up. Nasuada had been one of his best friends before they'd started dating, and the breakup hadn't been her fault any more than it had been his. In fact, she'd tried to make it as simple as possible – _sorry, I just realized I prefer women, we're through_ – though it hadn't turned out so simple.

But why bring it up? The past was the past, and apparently now she wanted to become friends again. No hard feelings, right?

"So, uh, how're you doing?" he asked awkwardly. "Things going okay for you up at law school?"

"Yeah." Nasuada fiddled with a lock of her hair absentmindedly. "It is kind of lonely, though. No nice women or men to talk to."

"How long are you staying?"

Nasuada shrugged, conveniently forgetting to finish what she'd been saying before. "Oh, a week or two. It depends."

"On what?"

"… various things."

"You've found a hotel room and everything?" he asked.

"Yeah, nearby. It's decent."

"How've you been doing?"

Nasuada shrugged. "Okay. You?"

"Good. Got a new boyfriend, passing my classes, got a job, 's all good."

Nasuada looked a little annoyed when Murtagh mentioned the word "boyfriend", but she said nothing other than "That's nice." They lapsed into painful silence, which was almost as painful as the polite conversation just before.

"So," Murtagh said, breaking the silence for the first time for several minutes.

Startled, Nasuada looked at him. "So..?" she asked when he didn't continue.

Murtagh shrugged. "Well, I, uh… I don't know. Um, what are your plans for while you're here?"

Nasuada sighed. "I don't know. I was going to hang around with Katrina most of the time, but apparently she met this guy in her biology class, and she's got plans later today with him."

"So you're stuck here with me."

Nasuada laughed nervously. "I guess so…?"

Silence again.

Finally, Nasuada said, "I'll make lunch or something?"

"We could go out to eat," Murtagh suggested. "If, uh, you don't want to cook or anything."

"No, no, it's fine." Nasuada got up and hurried to the tiny kitchen. "Is Katrina still keeping you in line still?" She began to search under the sink for a pot.

"Yeah. Sometimes she acts like she's a duck and I'm a little duckling that has a tendency to wander off." Murtagh shook his head. "Women."

"Oh, so you've switched to men completely now?" Nasuada asked, and flushed slightly for some odd reason.

"Huh? No. I'm still bi."

"Oh, good."

"What?"

"Nothing. You like spaghetti, don't you?"

--

A few minutes later, a pot a noodles sat on the stove, boiling, and a smaller pot of sauce and meat sat next to it. Nasuada lounged on the couch, and Murtagh sat in a chair. Every once in a while, Murtagh shot glances at Nasuada, wondering just what to say. Nasuada was doing the same thing. The TV was on, but they weren't watching it, just pretending to.

Murtagh instincts were telling him something was a little weird here, but he still wasn't sure what. Nasuada was acting strangely, shooting odd glances at his half-naked body as if weighing the pros and cons of something – kind of like the way she'd acted the night she broke up with him all that time ago.

At least that couldn't happen again, right?

"What's wrong?" he asked suddenly.

Nasuada hesitated, then sighed. "You know what? This is ridiculous. I'm going to get straight to the point." So, without further ado, she stood up, strode over to him, and pressed her lips against his.

Murtagh stiffened the moment she kissed him. His eyes widened in shock. What the hell was she do – no, wait, this was interesting. It felt kind of nice. Strange. But there was something wrong, wasn't there? _No, there can't be_, he decided his eyes sliding shut. _I wonder what Thorn will say about this. Or what Eragon will think. He'll probably –_

Eragon.

Murtagh pressed his hands against Nasuada's chest and shoved her off him. "What the hell?" he snapped, suddenly furious. He'd almost – !

Nasuada stared at him in shock, then slight embarrassment. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought that would be the best way to explain things quickly."

"Explain what? You like women! I'm a _guy_!"

She frowned at him. "There's no need to be so upset."

"Yes, there is! Explain or get out, Nasuada, I'm not here for you to play your stupid games with," Murtagh snapped.

"Calm _down_, will you?" she retorted. "I'm sorry if I surprised you, all right? There's no need to be a jerk about it. I mean, you'd do the same thing I did if you were in my shoes, and you usually do."

"What do you mean?" Murtagh asked warily.

"When you like someone or want to sleep with them, you kiss them to show it instead of just saying it. I've seen you do it, so don't deny it," Nasuada said.

Murtagh shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no. You're confused. Yes, I do that, but I'm a guy. And you're a lesbian."

Nasuada didn't reply.

Suddenly, something occurred to Murtagh. His eyes narrowed. "You lied to break up with me. You don't really like women, do you?"

Nasuada shook her head. "I didn't lie. Well, I didn't think I was lying. Murtagh, I honestly thought I was gay, I swear. It's just… I'm not so sure any more."

Murtagh crossed his arms over his chest. "Explain."

"Women don't interest me any more," she confessed. "They're all so boring. I've gone through a half-dozen girlfriends in the past few months alone. So, I've been thinking, maybe I should try men again."

"So you came here to seduce me?" Murtagh asked coldly.

"No," Nasuada said, exasperated. "Murtagh, I really like you, and I think we had something back when we were dating. Don't deny it, you liked me better than any of your other girlfriends or boyfriends. So, I thought, maybe I should try to fix things between us."

Murtagh shook his head. He found that he wasn't quite so angry any more, just confused and irritated. "I won't deny I liked you a lot. But I'm kind of already seeing someone."

Nasuada snorted.

"What?" Murtagh demanded.

Nasuada rolled her eyes. "Murtagh, you go through boyfriends like a dog goes through chew toys. You play with them a bit, then they get old and you get a new one."

Murtagh flushed. "You expect me to just dump him for you, then?"

Nasuada stared at him with somewhat surprise. "Well, yes. Unless you're serious about him."

Murtagh hesitated. _Was_ he serious about Eragon? "Well…"

"I knew it," Nasuada said. "You're not."

"How do you know?" Murtagh snapped.

"It's obvious."

"It's none of your business!"

"Then tell me. Do you love him?" Nasuada asked.

Murtagh flinched. Maybe – "No!" he protested. "Of course not, I don't – "

Nasuada nodded. "Good." And, before he could protest, she pulled him closer and kissed him again. Again, he was too surprised to move, though he snapped back out of it when Nasuada's light fingers began to fiddle with his belt. Murtagh flushed, beginning to feel a bit excited despite himself; Nasuada always got straight to the point, and she still knew just how to get him hot and bothered. This wasn't good.

And, almost as if this were a highly predictable and badly written fanfiction, that was the exact moment the door opened and in walked Eragon and Roran.

Murtagh jerked away, but it was too late.

Nasuada looked up, puzzled and irritated. "Aren't you supposed to knock before barging into someone's home?" she asked.

Roran's eyes narrowed. His hands clenched into fists. "Sorry," he answered coldly. He grabbed Eragon's shoulder and steered him out the door. Eragon looked dazed, and didn't seem to realize what was happening. Murtagh wasn't quite sure what was happening, either.

Then, suddenly, it all clicked.

Nasuada, making as if to undo his belt. The fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt. How they were kissing.

He jerked forward and grabbed Roran's arm. "Wait," he demanded. "It wasn't what it looked like, I swear!"

"Oh, really?" Roran said sarcastically. "So I didn't just see you getting busy with someone other than my cousin?"

Murtagh shook his head. "No! I mean, yes, but – "

"But what?" Eragon asked quietly. It was the first thing that he'd the entire time. Roran and Murtagh looked at him, startled. Eragon's face was blank, but his hands were shaking.

Murtagh felt a flicker of hope. Maybe Eragon would listen to him. "But I didn't want to, she just – "

Eragon punched him.

Murtagh staggered back, almost falling over from shock. He clutched his nose, blood leaking from between his fingers. "What the hell was that for?" he exclaimed.

"For being a lying bastard!" Eragon snarled. "And to think I almost – I let you – I thought – "

"If you'd just listen to me and stop assuming I – "

" – can't believe I thought you might be serious about me, you lying son of a – "

" – the most boneheaded person I know, won't even let me get my side in and – "

" – take an iron pole and shove it so far up your ass you'll be coughing up rust for – "

"Just SHUT UP for a second!"

"Shut up?" Eragon hissed. "So you can try and lie your way out of this? You can't let me go and move on to some other toy until I've fallen for you again and let you fuck me, huh? I can't believe you!"

"It's not like that," Murtagh snapped. "She's my ex-girlfriend."

"Oh, and you're still in love with her and just _had_ to fuck her behind my back, I suppose. Well, guess what – love's not a three-way street, Murtagh!"

"Well who said I was in _love_ with you?" Murtagh yelled almost hysterically.

That was when the world came crashing down.

Murtagh would never forget the expression on Eragon's face as he said those words. Grief? Maybe, in part. There was no word for it. It was agony, betrayal, acceptance, hatred, exhaustion, denial, everything all at once. It was beyond his comprehension. He didn't understand it, didn't want to, didn't want to believe he'd caused it even though he already did.

And then, without a word, Eragon turned away and left. Roran followed him, shooting one last glare over his shoulder at Murtagh as he did.

It was then Murtagh realized something.

Something he'd tried to deny time and time again, something that would have saved a lot of angst from ever happening in this story if he'd just realized it earlier. Something he'd never, never forget. Something artfully painful and sinfully wonderful. Something, needless to say, that was important, possibly the most important thing that Murtagh had ever realized.

He was indeed in love with Eragon Rider.

--

**Wow. I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this. It's certainly getting interesting, though. XD**

**No, I'm sorry, this story isn't over yet and no, Eragon and Murtagh's relationship doesn't work out. What would the rest of the story be about if, by some miracle, things were solved peacefully? It'd make for a very boring comedy, I think. **

**Love and apologies, **

**- DH**


	6. Irony

Eragon didn't know what time it was when he finally got home, went to his room, locked the door, and collapsed on his bed. Tears he'd refused to let fall in front of his cousin now streaming down his cheeks; angrily, he wiped them away and wished they'd stop. He wasn't some teenage girl mooning over the loss of a crush. He shouldn't be upset by this. He shouldn't care.

Roran had told him this would happen all along, anyway. And… Roran had been right.

Despite how much Eragon had trusted Murtagh, despite how much more time he'd spent with Murtagh, Roran had somehow known the man better. And he, Eragon, stupid, naïve Eragon had not listened when Roran told him what to expect from Murtagh.

"Idiot," he groaned. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He shuddered, another tear trickled down his cheek. He bit his lip savagely and tried to focus on the pain to stop himself from crying. He laid there for a while, just trying not to break apart. It was a while before a voice interrupted his grief.

"Eragon?"

Eragon froze as someone called his name. Footsteps approached as someone climbed the stairs to his room. He grabbed a tissue from the box next to the bed and wiped his eyes with it. Someone rapped on his door. "Eragon?" came the voice again. Saphira's voice.

Eragon didn't speak. He didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not while his eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. Though it _was_ Saphira… Saphira, who understood him perfectly. Roran he would have ignored, but maybe…

"Eragon, I know you're there. Roran called me and told me what happened."

Eragon still didn't reply.

"Fine," Saphira said, beginning to sound annoyed. "You have three seconds to open this door before I take a chair and bash it in."

Eragon grinned shakily, feeling hysterically amused somehow. He'd just broken up with his boyfriend, his life was hell, and now Saphira was threatening to break down his door. He stumbled off the bed as Saphira began to count, then unlocked the door.

It opened, and in walked Saphira. The first thing Eragon noticed about her complete lack of makeup and the fact she was wearing baggy jeans and a T-shirt. She dropped her purse on the floor and, before he could protest, hugged him tightly. Her soft scent – lavender with a hint of vanilla – invaded him, and he felt himself calm slightly. He hugged her back. It was then that he noticed that Roran was standing behind Saphira, looking unsure of himself. He looked uncomfortable when he realized Eragon was crying.

"Hey," Roran said, averting his eyes.

Saphira pulled back and held him at arm's length, absentmindedly brushing stray hairs out of his face like a mother would. "How are you feeling, idiot of mine?" she asked, smiling half-heartedly.

"Dead," he replied bitterly. He walked to the bed and collapsed onto it. He avoided looking at Roran.

Roran swallowed hard, then took a deep breath. "Eragon, I, uh… didn't want this to happen, you know." When Eragon didn't say anything, he continued. "I wanted you to stop dating him, you know that, but I didn't want you to have to…"

"I don't want to talk about it," Eragon said tersely.

"Are you sure? Because I don't mind s – "

Eragon's fingers curled around the nearest object – a book – and looked at Roran meaningfully. Roran quickly put his hands up in the universal gesture for peace and backed out of the room. "I'm going to be gone for a while," he said as soon as he was out of book-throwing distance. "I've, uh… got a date. Bye." Saphira nodded and made a shooing motion, keeping her eyes on her armed best friend. Roran quickly left, apparently having decided he couldn't help.

Saphira sat beside him, and however much Eragon wanted to be away from other people, he felt comforted by just having her there. "Do you hate him?" she asked simply.

"…Yeah."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know," Eragon sighed. "He just… I mean… Roran told me this was going to happen. Murtagh, he… he made a fool out of me. Should I hate him?" His voice became bitter.

"It's also not your fault he was stupid enough to cheat on you," Saphira pointed out.

Eragon shook his head disgustedly. "It doesn't matter, so I don't care," he insisted. "He can do whatever the hell he wants. I really don't care."

She ruffled his hair affectionately. "You've never been a very good liar."

Eragon flinched. "What am I supposed to say, then?" he demanded. "That it's driving me crazy?"

She smiled ruefully. "That's love for you."

"But it wasn't!" Eragon cried. Saphira started, surprised by his sudden fury. "It wasn't, it was my stupidity and, and, his… hormones, or something. I don't _know_."

Saphira stared at him silently for a moment. She started to save something several times, as if trying to find the best way to phrase something. Finally, she leaned down closer to him. Her blonde hair tickled his cheek. "You're sure?" she asked.

Eragon nodded.

"Then just let it go," she said. She wrapped one arm around his waist and hugged him with it. "It'll heal in time."

Eragon shook his head, his eyes looking wet again. "I-I…" His voice broke. He tried to speak again, but it came out shaking and broken. He groaned in despair and collapsed into her lap; she stroked his shoulder affectionately.

"Go ahead, idiot," she murmured, kissing his head like a mother with a hurt child. "Cry. I'm not going to think any less of you."

Eragon shut his eyes tightly and let go, beginning to sob openly. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, him his head in her lap, and her stroking his hair. He felt himself breaking, finally, struggling just to let it go and push it away but failing somehow. He didn't want to let it go. He wanted Murtagh back so they could be how they were before.

But, finally, Saphira gently eased him off of her, and he opened his eyes. "Sorry, Eragon," she said. "I have to go. Classes."

"Oh," he mumbled. "Right."

She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair again. "Don't forget, my birthday's the day after tomorrow," she reminded him. She kissed his cheek gently. "Miss it and I'll kill you, 'kay?"

He smiled weakly at her. "Sure." As she turned to go, he said, almost as an afterthought, "You know, if it weren't for the death threats, I'd say you'd make a great mother."

"The death threats will help keep the kids in line," Saphira replied, winking at him.

"I feel sorry for your future husband," Eragon said. The joke sounded hollow and forced, but Saphira smiled anyway.

"Love you, Eragon," she said, smiling at him fondly. She left, and Eragon closed his eyes. He didn't know what to do now that Saphira was gone. He was stranded, listless, numb. He couldn't think or distract himself. Eventually, his mind began to wander, his eyes began to droop, and soon he was asleep.

--

Roran made his way through the mall, scanning the crowds of people around him. Where had his date said to meet her? Somewhere in the food court, that much he was sure of, but the food court was big, not to mention packed with people. Over by the fountain in the middle, maybe? No, no, she'd said something about a clothing store next to the food court…

There. A flash of red, over by Burger King. Was it her?

Roran felt a knot of tension settle in his stomach. They'd never seen each other outside of their biology class before. What if he did something incredibly stupid? He knew he would. He always did. He – oh, shoot. Whoever the redhead over by Burger King was, they were gone. Now he'd have to start looking again…

He jumped as someone lightly tapped his shoulder.

He turned, smiling as he saw who it was. "Katrina," he said, embracing the redheaded girl.

Katrina smiled and hugged him back. "Nice to see you got here, Mr. Directionally Challenged," she replied, kissing his cheek. Roran felt his cheeks grow warm as her soft lips brushed his skin.

"Y-yeah. So, uh, lunch?" Roran managed to stammer.

"It's a quarter past three."

Roran tried to smile. "Yeah, s-sorry." He cleared his throat and forced himself to calm down, despite the butterflies in his stomach. He'd known Katrina ever since they'd become lab partners in his college biology class; that was nearly three months ago, but he still couldn't quite control himself around her.

"I like ice cream," Katrina pointed out. "Get me some?"

Roran grinned nervously. "Sure." He glanced around for a nearby ice cream shop and found one. They began to head towards it. "So, uh, how are things going?"

Katrina sighed. "Horribly, I'm afraid." She twirled a strand of her hand around one finger. "I was seriously debating canceling our date. Sorry. It's just, two of my friends are kind of messed up at the moment."

Roran felt a thrill of excitement. She considered it a date, too! They reached the shop and ordered their ice cream. When they sat down at a nearby table, Roran asked, "What happened?"

Katrina scowled. "Well, there's this guy. He's best friends with my older brother, and he's sort of like my second brother, but he's such an idiot sometimes. He started dating this guy recently – oh, wait. You're not homophobic, are you?"

"What? No," Roran said. "My cousin is gay."

"Oh, good. Well, my friend recently started dating this guy, but he's got this problem where he doesn't like serious relationships."

"Why's that?"

"The first person he ever was serious about dumped him and became a lesbian."

"Ouch."

"I know." Katrina gave her mint ice cream a lick before continuing. "Well, the lesbian ex-girlfriend came back, and she wanted my friend back, but he was dating that guy. And the ex-girlfriend ending up breaking up my friend and his boyfriend."

Roran nodded. "I see. Then?"

Katrina shrugged. "Well, nothing really. That's the problem. My friend is currently moping around at his dorm room, acting like the world has ended, and my lesbian friend is frustrated and depressed because he refuses to talk to her."

"Well, of course," Roran said, leaning back in his chair. "She broke him up with his boyfriend just because she couldn't let go. She sounds selfish. I wouldn't talk to her, either."

Katrina looked offended. "It's not her fault! My guy friend has a new boyfriend every week. Of course Nasuada thought he wasn't serious about this one."

"Who's Nasuada?"

"My lesbian friend."

"Oh." Roran paused, considering the situation. Then he said, "So what if she thought he wasn't serious? That's not an excuse to play God with someone else's love life. I – oh, shoot." The ice cream he'd been ignoring dribbled onto his arm. Katrina wiped it off him with a napkin, and Roran flushed at the skin contact. Katrina didn't notice.

"She wasn't playing God," she insisted, tossing the napkin in the trash. "She was just… assuming that he'd pick her, one of his best friends, over another disposable boyfriend. He's done it before."

Roran raised his eyebrows. "This has happened before?"

Katrina shook her head. "No, I mean he's picked friends over playthings before. Nas just didn't know this one wasn't a plaything."

"That's still not an excuse. She shouldn't just waltz in and demand he break up with someone for her, plaything or not," Roran said, shaking his head. "I kind of feel sorry for this guy friend of yours. He sounds like someone Fate decided to jerk around a bit."

Katrina nodded. "Yeah, he's pretty cool once you get to know him. I think you two would get along great. But enough of this." She waved her hand dismissively. "What's going on in your life?"

Roran sighed. "Don't even get me started. My cousin just found out his boyfriend was cheating on him."

"Really?" Katrina finished her ice cream and propped her elbows on the table. "He okay?"

"He's really broken up, actually," Roran admitted. "I told him that his boyfriend was a jerk, but he didn't believe me. But I did the mature thing, right? I told my cousin I'd try to accept the jerk if he was dead set on dating him. Fifteen minutes later, we find out he was cheating. I admit, I got quite a bit of enjoyment out of watching the jerk boyfriend get dumped, though." He chuckled, remembering how Eragon had punched Murtagh.

Katrina winced, thinking of how Murtagh had been punched by Eragon. "I don't know. My friend's boyfriend broke up with him kind of… violently."

"Poor guy," Roran said sympathetically. "I really feel for him."

"I do, too," Katrina said. "Can't help but feel more sorry for Nas, though – she's pretty depressed, too." She sighed. "Shoot. Now I'm depressed again. I need more ice cream."

Roran grinned. "Tell you what… I'll get you some more of that mint ice cream, and you agree to come with me to a party the day after tomorrow."

"A party?" Katrina looked curious. "What kind of party?"

"My cousin's best friend's birthday. Another friend is throwing her a surprise party." When Katrina hesitated, Roran added, "Oh, come on. It'll take your mind off things. You'll love it. Be my date?"

Katrina smiled and nodded. "Sure." She leaned forward and kissed him, and Roran felt a blush creep up his cheeks again.

--

Back at the house Eragon and Roran shared, Eragon yawned and opened his eyes. He blinked sleepily and stretched, then glanced at his clock. Three in the afternoon. He'd slept for a few hours. Strange. He hadn't even been that tired. He sat upright, feeling refreshed. Not just refreshed, either – he felt perfectly awake now. In fact, he felt great; so great that he realized he must have forgotten about Murtagh kissing –

No, he'd just remembered again. Damn.

He sighed, deciding he wasn't going to get over it anytime soon. He slid out of bed and made his way out his bedroom door, carefully stepping over the purple baby dragons rolling around on the floor. He headed down to the kitchen. There was nothing like triple chocolate fudge ice cream to help with emotional pain, after all.

When he reached the fridge, it handed him the last carton of ice cream. As soon as he'd politely thanked it, the door rang. Reluctantly, Eragon set down the ice cream on the kitchen counter and went to the front door. When he opened it, he froze in shock as the person standing there was revealed.

Hazel eyes. Black hair. Pale skin.

_Murtagh_.

Eragon continued to stare in shock at Murtagh, partly because Murtagh had shown up at his house without ever having been there before, and partly because Murtagh was carrying a bouquet of roses. Eragon's fingers tightened their grip on the door, and just as he started to slam it shut, Murtagh reached out and grabbed his arm. "No, wait," Murtagh said quickly. "Just let me explain, okay? Please?"

Eragon glared at him, but he felt himself giving in. Murtagh looked so sad, it was almost kind of cute. "Fine," Eragon replied stiffly. "What do you want?"

"To apologize," Murtagh said. He said it without hesitation; Eragon frowned. Murtagh was acting unusually humble and nice. Maybe getting caught cheating had changed him?

Eragon felt a flicker of hope. Maybe Murtagh really did regret it. Or maybe it hadn't been Murtagh's fault at all. Maybe they'd end up together after all, maybe even married. They'd be together for the rest of their lives, growing old and technologically challenged together… Eragon could see it now: Murtagh giving him foot rubs while they argued over who got the remote, playing bingo at the community center on Friday nights, worrying about which dress to wear to dinner while Murtagh insisted he just hurry up and choose one, going to their future child's wedding, being on their deathbed together…

Murtagh knelt and kissed Eragon's hand gently. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "So very sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I love you so much, the evil enchantress just…"

"I know, my love," Eragon found himself saying. "She concocted a nefarious plot to break us apart and steal our kingdom. It is no fault of yours she secretly fed you an aphrodisiac and seduced you. All is forgiven."

Eragon glanced down at himself. Was he dressed as a princess?

Hm. That was a bit odd. Comfortable, though.

"All the same, I vow to hunt down the evil enchantress," Murtagh announced. He looked up at Eragon, hazel eyes shining with determination.

Eragon felt a single tear of happiness trickle down his cheek. Murtagh rose and, ever so gently, kissed his cheek. Eragon shivered as a careful tongue licked away the tear, and Murtagh mouth moved to his ear to tease the lobe with his teeth. Eragon shivered again. "You know," he breathed. "No one's here at the castle but us…"

"Yeah," Eragon agreed breathlessly. He turned towards the stairway. "Come – "

"Oi, Era! Where are you, oh cross-dressing model of mine?"

Eragon glanced around. "Did you just hear someone say my name?" Eragon asked Murtagh.

Murtagh shook his head.

"Era!" The voice was louder and closer now. "You're asleep? It's three in the afternoon!"

Eragon's eyes snapped open. Murtagh, the roses, the front door, and the princess costume all vanished. He groaned and blinked groggily as someone nudged him. "Ah, so you're awake now," said the voice. "Good." Eragon rolled over. Arya stood at the foot of the bed, holding a sack the clinked every time she moved.

Eragon's heart sank. It'd been a dream. He'd fallen asleep after Saphira had left, and hadn't woken up and until just now. Murtagh had never come over to apologize. There was no evil enchantress. Murtagh was still a liar, and Eragon was still a fool for believing him.

"Saph called and told me you needed some comfort," Arya said. She plopped down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. "What happened? You look like shit."

"I don't want to talk about it," Eragon mumbled.

Arya rolled her eyes. "If you won't tell me, I'll call your Taggy and he'll come over here and make you tell him instead."

Eragon flinched.

Arya stared at him in surprise. "What? What did I say?"

"Arya, go away. It's none of your business," Eragon snapped.

Arya snorted. "Like I'd really leave. If Roran comes home and finds you dead on the floor, he'll be mad at me for not looking after you and making sure you don't kill yourself or something."

Eragon glared at her. "Aren't you supposed to be planning Saphira's birthday party or something?" he demanded.

"I had two options, Era. Come here and comfort you to keep Saph from biting my head off or finish a bunch of little things that could be left out of the party easily enough." She peered down in her bag and kept talking. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, though. I'll get it out of Saph sooner of later. But I'd have to be a pretty poor friend to not help you out. Here." She reached into her mysterious clinking sack and pulled out a slender bottle. She held it up proudly. "The comfort object that never fails."

Eragon stared at the wine Arya was offering. After a long moment of consideration, he reached out and took it.

--

Have you ever gotten the feeling that karma's biting you in the ass?

Yeah, I'm sure most of us have. You know, that feeling where everything's just gone to hell, and even though it's not your fault, you kind of feel like it is. Because really, it is… somehow, maybe, in a big-picture kind of way. It's kind of like the feeling you get when you decide to go on a pranking spree, cut a few brakes here and there, then get hit by a car that couldn't stop in time. Or, in Murtagh's case, it's when you spend all your time in with a guy denying you're in love with him, only to realize it right when your denial causes you to lose the person.

Hopefully you've never done either of those things, but that's not the point.

It's when the situation is just so ironic that your mind turns to pudding. Your heart feels like it's been ripped out of your chest and used as a punching bag. Generally, your mental stability has the life span of a possum with three broken legs and a sprained ankle in the middle of an interstate highway.

You spend hours a day resisting the urge to look up at the sky and demand to know who up there is so pissed off at you. You eat surprising amounts of triple-chocolate caramel fudge ice-cream. If you did indeed get hit by a car, then you sit in your hospital bed all day, doped up on painkillers and hallucinating about bumper stickers from hell.

Or, in Murtagh's case, you mope.

Not that he _was_ moping, of course. Murtagh didn't mope. It wasn't manly.

So, when Thorn came home after a class, took one look at him, and said, "You're still moping?" Murtagh was rather offended.

"I am not," Murtagh muttered sullenly, not even glancing at his best friend. He was draped across the couch, one arm slung artistically over his eyes.

Thorn snorted. "You skipped two classes, it's five in the afternoon and you're still in your pajamas, you've got a half-eaten tin of triple-chocolate fudge on the floor next to you, and you're watching Oprah. Tag, you're moping."

Murtagh didn't argue. He didn't think it mattered. Nothing mattered. Life sucked.

"I'll take that as agreement," Thorn said. Typical indifferent Thorn, he chuckled at his best friend's misery and sat down, turning his attention to the TV. Murtagh sighed morosely and began to work his way through the rest of the fudge, knowing better than to look for sympathy from Thorn. They sat there for several more minutes, until, at long last, the door clattered open.

"Thorn!"

Murtagh peeked out from under the arm he'd flung dramatically over his eyes. Katrina stood in the doorway, more shopping bags than it looked like her small frame could carry. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone.

"Hey. What're you so happy about?" Thorn asked, barely glancing at her.

Katrina grinned. "I went on a date with this guy in one of my classes."

Murtagh frowned. That rang a bell. Hadn't Nasuada said something about that right before she ruined his life?

"How'd it go?" Thorn asked, interrupting Murtagh's thoughts.

"I'm no longer single." Katrina's voice was triumphant.

Murtagh grimaced. Was he the only person who's love life was completely screwed up at the moment?

"That's good," Thorn replied thoughtfully. "I, uh… damn. Aren't I supposed to do something or other about your boyfriends? I forget. It's been so long since you've had one."

Katrina laughed. Laughed! Murtagh had been expecting her to shoot back some sarcastic remark at Thorn. "You're supposed to meet him and give us your blessing, and if you don't you devote your life to opposing us," she said.

_Like Roran did_, Murtagh thought bitterly.

Thorn shrugged. "Oh. Right. I'll meet him later, then."

Murtagh scowled.

Katrina set down her shopping bags and plopped herself down on the floor next to Thorn's chair. "You'd better approve, big brother," she said. "He's not very good with words, and he's a bit over protective, but he's wonderful." She sighed happily. "He's got this problem, though. Or his cousin does," she added. "He told me about it. It was kind of interesting. It sounded kind of like Murtagh's thing."

"Yeah?" Thorn said. Murtagh tried in vain to ignore them.

Katrina shrugged. "The cousin was cheated on, that's all."

That was the last straw. Murtagh's self-control snapped. "I wasn't cheating!" he snarled.

Katrina started. She flushed, looking almost guilty and offended. "I didn't say you were," she protested. "I – "

"Cheating is the most low-down, idiotic, cruel thing you can do," Murtagh snapped. "I'm not like that, and I'm sick of you, you and Nasuada always acting like I am! I'm not a freaking slut! Yeah, I fuck a lot of different people, but I wasn't cheating, I _don't_ cheat, I never _have_ cheated, and I _wouldn't have cheated on Eragon!" _

Thorn, having absolutely no capacity for sympathy, shrugged and went back to watching TV. Katrina, motherly instinct apparently kicking in, hurried over to Murtagh. "Of course not," she assured him, crouching by his side. "Don't be so touchy, Tag. All I meant was that the way he put it made it sound kind of like what was happening with you and Eragon."

Murtagh took a deep breath, counted to five, and slowly let it out. _Calm,_ he told himself. _I'm perfectly calm. In fact, I'm so goddamn calm I'm going to tell Katrina, calmly, to leave me alone. _ "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

Katrina shook her head. "Don't be like that, Tag, please." Suddenly her face brightened. "I know what'll cheer you up!" She pulled out her cell phone and hurried out of the room.

Murtagh glanced after her. "Do I want to know what she's doing?" he muttered.

Thorn shrugged. "Doubt it."

Murtagh lay there, wondering idly what Katrina was doing before eventually his thoughts turned back to it's favorite subject – Eragon. He groaned when the image of the brunet wormed it's way back into his mind. Fuck, but he'd never been so fixed on someone! Was it his smile? The adorable way he tried to be the top? His raw boyishness – not quite mature enough to be called a man, but not girly in any way? No, it was everything about Eragon. Everything! The idiot was nothing less than perfect.

_It's all my fault_, Murtagh thought miserably. _No, it's all Nasuada's fault! Why couldn't she just stay a lesbian? _

And, abruptly, his thoughts turned to Nasuada instead.

Her warm, golden eyes. Her smooth, chocolately skin. Her teasing smile. Her determined attitude – the way she always got what she wanted. Her straightforwardness. It was so like her to do what she had done… just jump into things and kiss him once she thought she knew what she was doing. Murtagh felt his lips gingerly, remembering how Nasuada's thick, soft lips had felt pressing there…

He flushed, realizing what he was doing. _You ass,_ he scolded himself mentally. _If you're going to pine after Eragon, then do it without fantasizing about your stupid ex-girlfriend! _

_But Eragon's history. _

Murtagh stiffened. What was this? A mysterious inner voice leading him astray? He listened carefully, expecting a tiny devil-version of himself to appear on his shoulder at any moment. None did, but the voice continued.

_You can't have him, he'll never forgive you_, it said. _But Nasuada is offering… and you did love her once…and she's incredible in bed…_

He hesitated. The voice had a point; Nasuada was indeed incredible in bed. Maybe –

"Murtagh!"

Murtagh snapped back into reality. Katrina strode into the room, triumphant. She put her cell phone back into her pocket. "I found a way to cheer you up," she announced. "There's a party the day after tomorrow, and my date said it was okay if I brought you."

Murtagh actually found himself considering it. "Will there be alcohol?" he asked cautiously.

Katrina shrugged. "Probably."

"I'm in," Murtagh said. Thorn snorted.

"Be warned, though, it's a birthday party," Katrina said. Murtagh shrugged noncommittally. Katrina continued, "Roran said the girl who was planning it was a party-animal, though, so it will be more of a party and less of a birthday thing."

Murtagh nodded absentmindedly.

Then he stiffened.

Replayed what Katrina had just said.

Replayed it again for good measure.

Then he freaked.

"Roran?" Murtagh yelped, sitting bolt upright. He gaped at Katrina. "You, you're kidding right? The – the guy you're dating! The one Nasuada said you were meeting earlier, and, the one in your biology class – him? _Him?_ You're dating that – "

Katrina's sympathetic face went to her say-what-I-think-you're-going-to-say-and-you're-dead face instantaneously.

"You're dating him," Murtagh repeated, horrified. "You're dating him. I can't believe… this is just… just so…"

"Ironic?" Thorn suggested. "Coincidental?"

Katrina frowned at Murtagh's hysteria. "So you know him?"

"_Know_ him? He's Eragon c…" Murtagh trailed off, and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

The "problem" Katrina had said Roran told him about. The problem was him? And the party. The party was important. If Roran was going to it… "Who's birthday party is it?" Murtagh demanded.

Katrina shrugged. "I don't know. Something about someone's best friend or such."

_There's a chance_, Murtagh thought desperately. _There's a slim chance_. Hope, damned hope, flickered in his chest, and he was flooded with determination. There was a chance, damn it, and he was going to take it. Eragon might be at that party.

"Katrina," Murtagh said carefully. "What exactly did Roran say about me?"

Katrina raised her eyebrows. "He didn't _talk_ about you."

"Yes, he did. I'm the guy who's supposedly cheating on his cousin."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well, then, you're screwed. He _hates_ you."

Murtagh closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch. He wasn't going to let that stop him, that was for sure. But Eragon cared about what Roran thought, or at least, he would now that Roran was supposedly been proved right about his relationship. Not to mention Nasuada could still be after him… or the fact that there was no way to prove he hadn't been cheating… or that Arya needed to be kept out of all of this, because she'd probably interfere just for the hell of it…

"Katrina," he said, eyes still closed. "What would I have to do to get you to help me with Roran?"

Katrina crossed her arms. "Tell what's going on, and I'll consider it."

Murtagh opened his eyes, sat up, and began to explain.

--

**This was a fun chapter to write, though it took me a while to figure out where each scene should go to build things up properly. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. D**

**And some of you may have noticed that Katrina's defending Nasuada. Actually, her entire conversation with Roran was basically the same conversation that I had with my beta/boyfriend (he also said that I should have Nasuada's ass kicked for being a bitch or something to that effect, but I left that out). I added that scene in there for two reasons: humorous effect and to give Nasuada a fighting chance. –cocks gun – C'mon, bite her head off again, reviewers. I **_**dare**_** you. **

**So I'm going to explain myself. **

**Nasuada is a very direct, forthright person. She does not like easing into things. She's also a bit opinionated. She knows two things: one, Murtagh has a boyfriend, and two, Murtagh doesn't get serious about boyfriends. So doesn't it make sense that she would go in there expecting Murtagh to dump his newest fuck-toy for her, one of his best friends? And since she's opinionated, she's not going to listen when Murtagh insists that Eragon's more important than that. She might have listened if Murtagh had claimed to be in love with Eragon, but that was the point, now wasn't it? **

**Hn. I just realized, Arya's not the only character incredibly OOC in this fic of mine. Damn. **

**Well, I think I'm done lecturing. Decide what you wish… I certainly didn't change my beta's opinion. **

**But, the thing is… I won't be updating for a while, I don't think (not that I update this regularly anyway). In fact, I don't think I'll be doing much writing at all for a bit. My life around this time of year always gets really hectic, and I often don't have much time outside of classes, marching band, studying, nervous breakdowns, attempting to keep myself from having nervous breakdowns via meditation, and my personal life, not to mention I've just been diagnosed with attention-deficit hyperactive disorder (ADHD) and I'm trying to figure out what to do about it. **

**I have a few oneshots that I'm trying to finish up, and I might post one or two of them, and I'm also going to stick around to read a bit (especially sussiekitten's story Black Mist; I think the cliffhanger might kill me) and to post on forums, but other than that, I'm gone. At least for a while. **

**Love and apologies, **

**- DH**


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